Apologetic
by Akemi Haruka
Summary: [InoSaku] Time spent apart has allowed them to grow apart, but is their relationship really beyond repair? Unapologetically angsty shoujo lime, postseries, in media res, terrible summary.
1. Prologue: Retrospect

**Prologue: Retrospect**

**Warnings:** Some name-calling, and if you don't like yuri lime, cover your eyes. God knows how much citrus _stings_ when you accidentally get an eyeful of it.

**Author's Note:** What better way to start off a story with a nice little angsty flashback? This opening chapter is a mess, it will probably undergo a serious rewrite sometime in the near future. In the mean time, here it is. So just to avoid any confusion, this is indeed a flashback, taking place some two years before the rest of the story does. There will be another flashback chapter sometime soon! Maybe! I guess. We'll see.

But why aren't you reading yet?

Oh, wait, before you go...:

**Disclaimer**: Something tells me I could never get away with pretending that I own Haruno Sakura or Yamanaka Ino, despite the fact that all them haters assure me that they would never notice their absence if I stole them away. Damn haters.

* * *

Ino stormed into the kitchen, a half step behind Sakura. "What is your _problem_?" she shrieked.

Sakura whirled on her, still backing away, her expression taut and unreadable, eyes glittering. Her hand shook as she jabbed an angry finger in Ino's direction. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking _dare_."

"Don't what?" Ino screamed at her, incredulous. "Don't… enjoy myself? Don't go out to see my friends? Don't live my life?"

"Enough semantics, Ino. Why don't you try being honest with yourself? You flaunt yourself like a _whore_."

Ino kept herself composed. "Jealousy, Sakura?"

"No, Ino. Disgust. You disgust me!" Sakura turned away from the girl and paced awkwardly back and forth in the narrow space that was the kitchen of Ino's apartment, looking like a caged animal, her fingers knotted in her hair. Ino caught a glimpse of Sakura's face, and was suddenly struck by how desperately apologetic she looked. Ino didn't know if it was because she didn't mean what she said, or because she realized belatedly that she had left herself open to Ino's comeback.

Ino didn't care which it was.

"Oh, so, today you're taking the moral high ground, are you? Tired of pretending to be a victim all the time, now you're trying to put yourself up on a pedestal, set a shining example for us all? Enough semantics, Sakura," Ino spat. "You're a fucking hypocrite."

"At least I don't sleep around!" Sakura hurled back, finally lowering her hands from her face, knuckles white.

"Oh?" Ino's voice took on a dangerous tone, and she closed the gap between the two girls, her hands held at her sides, palms open. Sakura fled, backing herself into a corner, her eyes darting, terrified; Ino kept pace with her every step. "I'm confused, Sakura," she murmured, baiting. "Between the things you say to me now and the things you tell me at night…"

"Don't," Sakura hissed.

Ino pressed her lithe body up against Sakura's rigid form, her hands coming up to rest on the edge of the counter, trapping her. "The things you _beg_ me to do to you…"

"Ino," Sakura warned.

She turned her face away in a panic as Ino closed the gap, pressing her lips to Sakura's jaw line, bitterly lingering. Sakura closed her eyes tightly, shuddering, convulsing as Ino dragged her knuckles up her ribcage, a threatening caress. She kissed Sakura again before moving her mouth and dragging her teeth across the shell of Sakura's ear. Her voice dropped, thick and low, a salacious whisper, taunting. "The way you let me _fuck_ you…"

Sakura heaved violently, her hands coming up quickly to shove Ino away. Ino was ready for her, though, catching hold of both of Sakura's wrists, crossing them and pinning them to the cupboards above Sakura's head. The pink-haired kunoichi choked out a defeated sob as Ino crushed their bodies together and gently kissed the corner of Sakura's mouth. "Ino, stop," Sakura whispered.

"You don't want me to stop," Ino murmured into her lips.

"Please," Sakura sobbed. She could taste her own tears on Ino's lips.

Ino relaxed her grip on Sakura's wrists, allowing her arms to drop but not lowering her own. She hesitated, waiting to see if Sakura would push her away again. When Sakura made no move to do so, Ino grinned voraciously and kissed her again, gently biting the other girl's lower lip. Sakura didn't react; Ino lowered one of her arms, her fingertips trailing down along her cheekbone and down to her jaw. Sakura turned away, and Ino cupped her face gently, kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and then slowly worked her way back up again.

"Ino," Sakura started softly. Ino could feel Sakura's voice vibrating in her throat as she kissed her.

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry, Ino."

Ino said nothing, so Sakura continued.

"I'm sorry I ever came back here."

Ino kissed her through her hurtful words, always gentle.

"I never wanted to see you again," Sakura whispered.

Ino kissed her one last time, lingering, before she pulled away and took half a step back.

Sakura's heart fell still in her chest when she saw the hurt on Ino's face, painfully reminiscent of that day, so many years ago, when Sakura had rejected the blonde's friendship; when she had returned that red ribbon, burned the bridge she never wanted to cross, broke her heart. "Ino," Sakura called softly, reaching out slowly.

Ino recoiled, backed away another step and averted her gaze. "I love you, Sakura," Ino said abruptly, unable to look the other girl in the eye.

"I can't do this," Sakura whispered.

Ino wouldn't look at her as she backed away, putting her back to the wall, her gaze riveted on some empty point in space between them. Deathly still, Ino didn't speak when Sakura walked past silently, didn't move until she heard the apartment door close behind her. Then, tears welling in her eyes, Ino inhaled suddenly – a broken gasp – raising her hand to her own lips. Her other arm tightened convulsively around her waist, fingers digging mercilessly into her own flesh. She turned, vision swimming as she stared at her front door, wishing Sakura would change her mind, would come back, would accept her; but she didn't. She couldn't.

Ino crumbled.

Her knees struck the hardwood floor, the impact harsh and loud in her own ears. She keeled over, elbows bruising, pressing her forehead into the ground. She sobbed, so sudden and hoarse that her chest ached. All semblance of confidence and dignity dissipating in a torrent of tears, Yamanaka Ino broke down and wept.


	2. One: Return

**One: Return**

**Warnings:** Ino has a temper, and quite the mouth on her, to boot. 

**Author's Note:** I _really_ should be studying for my international relations exam that's on friday. But, when InoSaku calls...

* * *

Ino trudged up the stairs, weary and sore and suffering from a mild headache that jolted through her skull with every step. She had worked at the flower shop all day, normally not a very taxing activity, but she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and hadn't come home at all. She was looking forward to locking herself away in her apartment, briefly considered taking a bath to relax before heading to bed, but at this point simply collapsing face-first on her couch, fully clothed and still in her shoes, sounded just as good.

She reached the top of the staircase, the last step particularly laborious. She sighed heavily, hauling open the door that led to the third floor of the apartment complex. As she stepped through, Ino caught a glimpse of a dark shape leaning up against the corridor wall; at first she thought nothing of it, but as her hand trailed behind her to let the door close, she suddenly realized that the shadowed visitor was standing outside _her_ door. Her mouth set itself in a grim line, preparing to turn away whoever it was – she often had visitors this time of night – and she set off towards the figure, purposeful, scathing words of dismissal already building in her mind.

The door pulled itself shut behind her, louder than Ino had expected it to be. The shadowed figure looked up sharply, startled green eyes catching Ino's gaze with eerie precision. Ino nearly tripped over her own feet.

_Sakura?_

Ino gave her old friend and rival a once over as she headed for her apartment door, her hands fumbling for her keys, her mind racing. _What the hell does she want from me now?_ Sakura looked awful; gaunt, disheveled, her eye sockets so darkly shadowed that they looked bruised. She had her arms crossed tightly across her chest, defensive, though her shoulders were stooped in exhausted defeat. Her clothes were filthy under the jacket she was wearing, which was far too big for her, and where the sleeves fell back from her wrists Ino could see that there was old blood on her arms – not hers, as far as Ino could tell – and it looked like the wall behind her was the only thing keeping her upright.

_Who knows what she got herself into this time around,_ Ino shook her head imperceptibly, tearing her gaze from Sakura's as she reached the door. She said nothing to the other girl, apparently ignoring her as she slid her keys into the lock and turned them harshly. She gave Sakura a sidelong glance as she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, letting her keys hang, softly jangling in the silence broken only by the soft hum of the electric lights and Sakura's harsh breathing.

Sakura didn't move. As Ino stared back, she seemed to lose her nerve, her eyes shifting away from Ino's, back again, then down to the floor. She bit her lip, her arms tightening across her chest.

Ino felt her heart soften out of pity for the other girl, albeit only briefly before she reset her resolve. As coldly confident as always, she rested one hand on her hip and broke the silence. "Well? Are you going to come in or not?"

Sakura bit her lip even harder, her eyes glistening in the poor light, and nodded silently. Ino stepped aside, letting the other girl enter her apartment. The blonde turned to remove her keys from the lock and shut the door, taking care to set each of the three locks in turn – an automatic habit - giving them an unusual amount of attention. She stalled for precious seconds, thinking about what she would say to Sakura. She was tempted to fall into old habits, harsh and dejecting, bitterly ask the girl what she wanted, avoid eye contact, do her best to make Sakura uncomfortable. The pink-haired medic deserved little better; when she had left Konoha some two years ago – just over two years, in fact; the events of that bitter autumn month were burned into her memories – the two girls hadn't exactly been on good terms with each other.

Sakura had said some awful things, and Ino had retaliated in turn. Their relationship, rebuilt from scratch and much deeper than its childhood precedent, had dissolved in a bitter exchange of words: threats, insults, accusations and, worst of all, regrets. The two of them had apparently had vastly differing ideas of exactly what their relationship meant to them, and to each other, and though Ino hadn't thought their differences irreconcilable, Sakura had clearly thought otherwise. In a blaze of indignation and self-deprecating disgust, Sakura had cut their ties – a cut much deeper than its childhood precedent – and then, as it appeared to Ino, simply fled the village rather than deal with the consequences of her words, hiding herself in her work.

Ino found it ironic that the medic would devote herself so entirely to the healing of the injured and, in the process, leave Ino with a wound so raw. Ino had fled from her memories of Sakura, indulging in all the vices that Sakura had accused her of, as if proving the other girl right could somehow give Ino the emotional upper hand in the entire affair.

And now, it appeared, the tables had turned. Sakura had come crawling back, looking as bad as Ino had after she had been abandoned. The shocking confidence, the offensive sneer, the harsh words – everything that Ino had seen in the other girl on that last day in Konoha – had all deserted her. Sakura looked desperate, vulnerable, afraid.

And Ino wasn't feeling very merciful.

The blonde turned away from her door, her milky azure eyes raking across Sakura's crumbling psyche. Sakura kept her own eyes on the floor, her faintly trembling lips silent.

Ino lost patience. She dropped her keys on the low shelf beside the front door – the sound making Sakura flinch, Ino feeling a surge of contempt rising within her at the other girl's glaring weakness – and simply brushed past her, kicking off her shoes and then making her way into the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

"Ino." Sakura's voice was just as ragged as the rest of her appearance.

Ino turned only partly towards Sakura, her lips set in an unforgiving line, casting a brutally disinterested glare over her left shoulder. She waited.

"Ino, I…" Sakura's eyes darted back and forth between nothing in particular, as if she were searching desperately for the words that had abandoned her.

_Abandoned her_. Ino smirked at the tragic justice of the entire situation.

"I…"

Ino raised one elegantly arched brow, expectant.

"I just…"

"Do you have something to say or not?" Ino hissed at her coldly.

Sakura broke down. She uncrossed her arms, letting her hands drop to clasp white-knuckled fistfuls of the dark jacket she wore. She let out a strangled, suppressed sob, the tears that had glittered in her eyes making their way down her dirty cheeks, carving crystalline swaths through old splattered blood and dark scuffs. "Ino, please, I…"

Impatient, Ino rolled her eyes, pivoting on her heel, and walked away. She had scarcely taken two steps when Sakura's full (albeit shockingly deficient) weight crashed into her back. The pink-haired kunoichi buried her face between Ino's shoulder blades, one arm coming around her waist while her other hand caught hold of Ino's shirt at her side and held tight. Ino froze, her eyes closing tightly when Sakura's agonized sobs reached her ears.

"I'm sorry," Sakura kept saying. "Please, Ino. I'm sorry." Over and over again, a broken mantra.

Ino's throat tightened, tears threatening to well in her own eyes. "Let go of me, Sakura," she whispered.

"Ino, please."

Confused emotion suddenly rose within Ino's heart, a torrent of rage, of pity, of shame, unrestrained, unprecedented. She closed one hand around Sakura's wrist, pried it off of her body, a fierce, brutal act, and whirled around to face the other girl. Sakura was too close, far too close for comfort, so Ino caught her by one shoulder, shoved hard, half-spinning Sakura around. She staggered, her back striking the door hard, her sobs hiccupping on impact. "Don't fucking _touch_ me," Ino snarled at her.

"Please," Sakura sobbed. Her voice caught hold of Ino's heart, a crushing revival of old emotions, an awful familiarity that Ino had wanted so desperately to forget.

"Shut up!" Ino screamed at her. "Don't you fucking dare!"

"I'm sorry!" Sakura screamed back, her voice so broken it was almost unrecognizable.

Ino lashed out brutally, a wicked back-handed slap that caught Sakura full across the eyes, an impact that sent her reeling, an impact that jolted Ino's arm hard. Sakura looked as if she were going to collapse, so Ino dove at her, her fists catching hold of that damn jacket, hauling Sakura back upright and slamming her back into the door hard. She simply wanted to throw the other girl out but found, much to her dismay, that in her distracted state she had automatically locked the door, trapping Sakura inside with her. Unable to throw her out of her sight, Ino did the next best thing, jerking Sakura forward and slamming her back into the door again, twice. "Why makes you think you have any fucking right to come back here?" Ino screamed. "What makes you think you have any right to ask for my forgiveness?"

Sakura simply cried.

"You turned your back on me, Sakura! What makes you think you deserve any better?"

Sakura could say nothing.

"You promised me –!" Ino shouted, her voice breaking involuntarily. "—You fucking promised me that you would never leave and then you _betrayed_ me! You _abandoned_ me!"

Tears washed unbidden down Ino's cheeks, and she hurled herself away from Sakura, letting the other girl simply collapse in a pathetic heap. Ino turned away, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached, her hands rising to dash the tears away with a swipe of her palms. She was shaking and crying and she just wanted Sakura _out_ of her home and _out_ of her life again – a mindlessly defensive reaction to the cracking of her bitter heart's veneer. Ino wanted to run from Sakura, to hide from everything she represented and everything she still made her feel.

Sakura was coughing, choking on her sobs, and Ino whirled around, half tempted to get a running start and _kick_ the other girl, but she froze when she saw Sakura's hands covering her mouth, blood oozing out from between her fingers, pattering on the hardwood floor with every suffocating heave. Ino froze, her heart seizing painfully in her chest, her eyes widening in horror. She staggered back a step, her traitorous heart twisting itself in two, sending her into an abrupt emotional about-face that threw her mind reeling. _Oh god, she came back here to die,_ Ino's panic-stricken mind raced, her breath trapped in her lungs, strangling her.

Torn, shocked, Ino didn't know how to react. Sakura took advantage of her indecision, her voice so raw and painful that she winced with every word. "Ino," she rasped. "Ino, I was wrong. I'm so sorry. Please." She paused, draw a ragged breath, repeated herself. "I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I was wrong."

Sakura's voice failed her.

Ino's heart betrayed her.

The blonde's knees hit the hardwood floor, her hands reaching out to grasp Sakura – her skin hot with fever – and hauled her into her arms. Sakura clung to her helplessly, still sobbing, her mouth leaving bloody stains on Ino's shirt as she pressed her face into Ino's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ino," she kept saying, her voice barely audible, breathy and bubbling. "I was wrong."

"Stop it," Ino grated, crushing Sakura's head into her collar bone, holding her so tightly. "Stop it, stop saying that."

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up," Ino shouted through her clenched teeth. "Stop talking. Stop crying." Her voice broke, and she hid her face to smother her own sobs. "Please stop crying."

"Ino…"

Ino kissed Sakura roughly on the ear, held her even tighter. "Don't say anything, Sakura. Please. Not yet."

Sakura fell silent except for her rasping sobs, fumbling hands wrapping Ino in a crushing embrace.

Ino's heart was pounding in her chest so hard that it hurt, her throat constricted by the flow of tears, her mind spinning. Emotion ravaged her thoughts, tearing through the walls she had built up in Sakura's absence – walls destroyed so swiftly, so effortlessly, that Ino had to wonder if she had ever succeeded in shutting Sakura out, or if she had merely deceived herself this whole time.

Ino just didn't want to hurt Sakura anymore.

And she could only pray that Sakura didn't want to hurt her, either.


	3. Two: Recession

**Two: Recession**

**Warnings:** Ino's potty mouth gets some exercise today, and Sakura reviews what it feels like to get punched in the face a dozen times.

**Author's Note:** Wow, another chapter today! I surprise myself sometimes - that is, surprise myself by how successful I am at NOT studying for my friday exam and NOT finishing my last essay. Yeesh. Anyway, readers have a handful of reviewers to thank for this angsty mess. **Hannah Sakura, Physco Wolf, kniichan, KumoSeikatsu, pia Z, hashire** and **jenafrost**. So, if you must blame _someone_, blame them for encouraging me to continue! But thank you, kind reviewers. _I'll _always appreciate it.

I sort of accidentally stumbled upon this Re-_something_ chapter title theme I have going on here. I kind of like it. I especially like it because the re- prefix can either mean again/anew or back/backward. oo I'm so accidentally profound! Of course, recession in this chapter's title either refers to the act of withdrawing or the act of ceding back to a previous possessor. Fitting? I certainly thought so!

Sorry for holding you up! shoos the reader away Go, go! Read! And tell me what you think!

* * *

Ino had lost track of how long they had stayed there, huddled together on the floor by the front door, Sakura's erratic breathing slowing, Ino's rapid heartbeat calming. Her left leg had long gone numb from where it was crushed into the floor and her tired muscles resumed their persistent aching. She was far too uncomfortable. She had to move.

She nudged Sakura gently with her shoulder and instantly the other girl sat up woodenly, her down-turned face hidden by her hair. Ino slowly unfolded her legs and dragged herself up to her feet, not saying anything as she headed to the kitchen and rifled through her cupboards to fetch a glass. Filling it with water from the tap, Ino returned to Sakura, crouching down easily and handed the glass over.

Sakura's fingers left sticky crimson smears across the glass as she accepted it silently, lifting it to her mouth and taking a mere sip. She winced with every swallow at first, then, either not caring about the pain of her throat or finding it waning, she drank the rest in great dramatic gulps. Ino took the glass from her gently, her eyes riveted to a faint red stain around the rim.

"Why are you bleeding, Sakura?" Ino's voice wavered slightly, though she kept her tone low and neutral.

Sakura raised a hand to her throat, rested it there. _Because you just beat the shit out of me_, Ino thought wryly. But when Sakura spoke, her voice was free from accusations; Ino heard only pain in her voice. "There are tears in my esophagus," she said quietly.

"What?" Ino was shocked. "What from?"

Sakura shrugged. "I've been getting sick a lot lately." And she left it at that.

Ino hesitated for a long minute before she rose, setting the glass down beside her keys, and then crouched again and took hold of Sakura's arms. "Come," she said, gently tugging. Sakura placed one hand against the door and half crawled up the wall, half let Ino pull her upright, her feet unsteady, weight shifting and swaying. "Whose jacket is this?" Ino asked her gently, catching hold of the oversized garment. When Sakura shrugged, it simply fell from her shoulders, so large was it that she didn't even have to move her arms to get it off. Ino was horrified to see that the black cloth was stiff with hardened blood in places, but she simply hung it up on a hook by the door.

Sakura followed Ino blindly, past the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. Sakura looked worse than ever as the fluorescent light flicked on, her hair disheveled and lank and eyes so bloodshot and red-rimmed that they looked positively painful. Ino excused herself quietly, making a quick trip to her own bedroom to grab some clothes for Sakura to change into and then grabbing a spare towel from the closet before she returned, setting both down on the bathroom counter. Sakura was staring at herself in the mirror, her expression blank, eyes blinking slowly.

Ino raked back the shower curtain, the sound of the rings on the curtain rod so suddenly grating that Sakura looked startled, her eyes following Ino's delicate fingers as she pushed it aside, released it, and dropped to her side again. Ino nodded her head towards the shower. "Take as long as you need to," she said quietly, then simply turned and left, shutting the bathroom door behind her.

Ino made her way back out of the corridor, heading over to her couch, hearing the water turn on, and sat down heavily, resting her elbows on her knees and hiding her face in her hands. She tried to quell that painful dryness in her throat, pressing the heel of her palms into her eye sockets hard to hold back the tears. She hated crying, if only because she had done so much of it after Sakura had left, but now, no matter how much she told herself that crying accomplished nothing, she couldn't stop. She made a conscious effort to still her heartbeat, to calm her breathing, to take control over the emotions that raged through her.

_Twenty-fifth clause,_ Ino said to herself, over and over again. _A shinobi must not show any emotion in any situation. A shinobi must have a heart that will not allow him to cry._

Ino clenched her fists tightly and struck herself in the face several times before relenting, inhaling deeply, a shuddering, unsteady breath. _Fuck you, Sakura. Why did you have to come back?_

Far too soon for Ino's liking, the water was off, and then Sakura's bare feet were softly padding down the corridor. Ino listened to her every movement – clumsy, whether from exhaustion or distress – as she approached, hesitated, then sat down on the couch, as far from Ino as she could manage.

Ino let her sit there in silence for a few minutes before she finally worked up the nerve to speak. "Why are you here?" Her tone was cold and unforgiving again, though her hands still hid the tears on her cheeks.

"I wanted to… I needed to…" Sakura's voice was so small.

"To?" Ino prompted her.

"I miss you," Sakura offered meekly. "I don't think I can make it alone anymore."

Ino smirked contemptuously. "Did you come back because you needed me, or because you needed _someone_?" Ino finally lowered her hands from her face, turning a quarter of the way towards Sakura, watching her with a single balefully bleary eye.

Sakura quailed under Ino's gaze. "I made a mistake," Sakura whispered. "I came to apologize."

"There was no mistake," Ino said, accusing. She turned away from Sakura, turned her gaze to the window, the view of the outside world obscured by the reflection of the lights behind them. Ino watched Sakura's reflection carefully, feeling somehow safer doing so, rather than actually having to face the real girl. Ino's clothes looked far too big for her, hanging off her narrow shoulders. "You came and went so often, I don't understand why I ever believed your promises to stay."

Sakura bit her lip, turned away, rested her chin on her knuckles, elbow propped up on the arm of the couch.

"This time is no different, is it? You come back when you need something from me, then run away when I need something back."

"That's not true," Sakura whispered, turning to look at Ino, her expression twisted and unreadable through her reflection.

"You're a _parasite_, Sakura." Ino's voice was a vehement hiss. "I'd like you to leave." Ino leaned forward to stand up, to go to the door, to open it for Sakura, but before she could even get off the couch Sakura's hand snapped up, caught Ino by the wrist, held on tight. Startled, Ino turned, was instantly snagged by Sakura's gaze, held frozen.

"I don't need _someone_," Sakura whispered. "I need _you_, Ino. I need you to accept my apology. I need you to take me back."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Ino sneered.

"No," Sakura whispered.

Ino lost her patience. "You treated me like I was trash, Sakura! You came into my home and insulted me and broke my heart and then you left!" She yanked her arm out of Sakura's grasp, recoiling from her touch. "You made me hate myself!"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing to me as if it makes a difference!" Ino stood up suddenly, paced away, turned back on Sakura and looked her dead in the eye. "What do you want from me? Do you want me to forget that you ever left?"

"No!" Sakura cried.

"Do you want me to pretend that you never broke my heart?"

"No," Sakura wept.

"I don't think I can ever forgive you, Sakura. I don't think you have anything to offer me that would make me _want_ to."

"Ino, please."

"Please what!?" Ino screamed at her.

"I love you!" Sakura cried desperately.

Ino gritted her teeth and slapped the other girl as hard as she could. "Don't you fucking dare lie to me like that." Her fingers stung, and it made her feel a bit better.

"Its true," Sakura sobbed. "I always did, more than I ever knew. You were the only person who could ever make me feel good about myself."

"Oh, now, isn't that wonderful?" Ino mocked her. "You made a fool of me, Sakura. You rejected me."

"No, no," Sakura begged. "I rejected part of myself, because I didn't understand what I was feeling."

Ino laughed, loud, neurotic, scathing. "Oh, is _that_ what that was?" She leaned in close, intimidating Sakura, dominating her, her voice low and dangerous. "What was it that you called me? A filthy whore? And what was it that you accused me of? Corrupting you? You made me out to be some sort of sexual predator."

"I didn't mean it," Sakura sobbed.

"Well, you made me believe it for over two years now, Sakura. For two years you made me think that I had made some horrible mistake, that I had made some awful presumption about you, about your sexuality---"

"This has nothing to do with your gender!" Sakura cried out.

Ino slapped her again, even harder. "Don't you fucking dare try to use my own words against me," Ino hissed.

"It's true," Sakura wept. "You were right, I was wrong, and I see that now. I saw it from the moment I left."

"Two years ago!" Ino screamed.

"And for two years I regretted saying those things to you! I desperately wish that I hadn't. You have no idea!"

"Oh, no," Ino mocked. "Regret? Heartbreak? Self-hatred? Those certainly aren't emotions that _I'm_ familiar with."

"Ino, please---"

Ino rolled her eyes, straightened up, backed away a step. Sakura surged to her feet, grabbed at Ino's hands. When Ino tore free from the other girl's grasp, Sakura caught her by the shirt instead.

"Listen to me," Sakura pleaded. "I made a mistake—"

"That's about all you did," Ino snorted derisively.

"--- and I realize that. I can't do this without you, I can't be happy without you."

"You're delusional," Ino smirked. "You've hit rock bottom, and now you're just desperately flailing around for something to latch onto. You insult me."

"I need you, Ino," Sakura whispered. "And you need me, or else you would have never let me come inside."

Ino narrowed her eyes, showed her teeth in a feral sneer. "That's a pretty dangerous assumption to make," she snarled. "You've been gone a long time, Sakura. What makes you think I haven't changed? What makes you think that I haven't become everything you condemned me as?"

"Ino," Sakura breathed, her eyes wide, terrified.

Ino reveled in her complete and utter domination of the other girl, her predatory words buttressing the shallow contempt that she had come to depend on over the years, the hatred for the other girl that had stood as the only barrier between her and utter despair. Ino jolted forward, her face mere centimetres from Sakura, looking her up and down. "You have no idea what I want from you, sweet Sakura."

"I don't care what you take," Sakura whispered. "As long as you take it from me."

"You can't win this game," Ino warned her.

"I don't deserve to win it."

Ino crushed her mouth against Sakura's, so suddenly ferocious that she actually drove the medic back a step, made her stumble, almost made her fall over the couch. Sakura held tightly onto Ino, onto her shirt, and the blonde caught her by the waist, digging her fingers into her flesh, grinding her knuckles against Sakura's ribcage. Sakura made a tiny sound in her throat, a cry of surprise and pain. Ino forced her closer, almost cutting the other girls lips with her teeth, triumphant when Sakura began kissing her back.

Ino wanted to abuse Sakura, like Ino herself had been so abused by others since Sakura's absence. She wanted to destroy her, to tear her apart bit by bit, to make her hate herself more and more with every touch of Ino's delicate fingers, with every suicidal kiss, with every callous word. She wanted to bolster her own ego by crushing Sakura's – a hollow victory, but it was all that Ino wanted from her.

Ino wanted to use Sakura, to take whatever she needed from her, to prove to herself that she had shut the girl out of her heart forever, that she could never forgive her.

But somewhere, beneath the hatred and contempt, Ino felt dismay at Sakura's complete willingness to be victimized by her.

Dismay, and painful self-recognition.

* * *


	4. Three: Reaffirm

**Three: Reaffirm**

**Warnings:** This might just be as poorly written as I'm afraid it is.

**Author's Note**: Wow, that was quite the little break, wasn't it? It's been over a month since I've last updated, I wouldn't be surprised if I lost my tiny pool of readers already. I suppose that's what I get for mistreating those kind enough to read and review this junk by disappearing for 40 days. I had kept up trying to write this, but I never really liked what I got out, or I wrote something that was inappropriate for this moment in the continuity. Between this chapter and the previous three, I have over 40 pages of typed text - almost all of it trash! But I figured I should post something, or else I'd never end up continuing it. For the last 40 days and last 40 pages I've also been hammering out exactly what I want to do with this story, since I was a complete fking moron and started writing it without giving very much thought to where I was going with it. But now, I have a plan in mind, so updates _should_ be a more regular thing... if only because I'm back in school again and now I have other things that I should be doing other than writing shoujo lime fanfiction.

In other news, I've come to despise my own writing style, AGAIN. Every once in a while I'm suddenly struck by how verbose and cumbersome my writing is, suddenly notice that I'm starting to slip into bad, bad old habits. Hopefully with practice I'll get back on track and actually like the way some of this turns out. Until then, I just hope you all don't hate me for it.

* * *

"Just like old times, wasn't it?"

Sakura was raking her fingertips through her hair, trying her very best to straighten it out a bit but failing miserably all the same. She paused momentarily, turning half way towards Ino. "What?"

Ino lowered the empty glass from her lips and placed it on the counter beside the sink. "That's what you wanted, right? For things to be the same as they were before." She watched Sakura struggling to fix her hair for a long moment before she approached her suddenly, reaching. Sakura's hands dropped almost immediately and she held them out defensively. Ino ignored her, coming closer in spite of Sakura's hands on her shoulders, trying to press her back. "Stop it," Ino chided, and then set to work fixing Sakura's hair herself. "You look pathetic."

"I didn't think things would have been the same," Sakura muttered quietly, choosing to ignore Ino's deliberate jab, her voice taking on a defensive tone.

"I didn't ask what you thought, I asked what you wanted," Ino replied casually. Too casually; her tone came off as hard, callous, cold.

"Maybe," Sakura offered. "I don't know."

Ino leaned back, looking Sakura over with a narrowed, critical eye. "Did you hack your hair off yourself again? It looks awful."

Sakura didn't say anything, her gaze darting back and forth between Ino's eyes, apprehensive.

"I guess it doesn't really matter what you wanted," Ino said suddenly, running her hands through the back of Sakura's hair, trying to get some volume into it. "Still, I suppose it took a lot of courage for you to come back here." She stopped, one hand on Sakura's cheek, the other resting on the side of her neck. "Or maybe it took none at all," she mused, pensive.

"Ino –"

Ino leaned forward suddenly, as if to kiss Sakura, but the other girl struggled to keep their faces at least a few centimetres apart, her fingers tangled in Ino's shirt as she clenched her fists at her shoulders. Ino's face suddenly split into a feral grin – it seemed to Sakura like she showed more teeth when she smiled now – her gaze resting on Sakura's lips for a moment before she found her eyes again, her stare intimidating, merciless. "Do you even know what you want, Sakura?"

Sakura forced herself to look away. "I know what I want," she murmured. "I just don't know how to find it."

"Oh?" Ino was closing the gap between them, centimetre by centimetre, until their faces were touching. "You didn't find it last night?" Her voice was barely audible.

"No," Sakura whispered. Her eyes closed slowly when Ino kissed her, an ethereal touch of their lips.

"But you'll keep looking," Ino asserted, her words broken by more kisses.

"Yes," Sakura relented.

Ino pulled away, her hand still on Sakura's cheek, admiring the other girl's gaunt beauty. Sakura opened her eyes slowly, looking at Ino in defeat and helplessness. Ino's cruel confidence dissipated rather suddenly, and she let her hand fall from Sakura's cheek, fingertips trailing along her jaw. She pivoted on her heel, walking back into the kitchen to grab her purse. "I've got to close the shop tonight," she said brusquely. She set to work quickly unlocking the door, her fingers moving swiftly, dextrously. "I might not be back until late," she added. She pulled open the door and stepped through. Then, as if in afterthought, she hesitated and turned back to find her guest.

Sakura was just standing there meekly, arms crossed, facing Ino but with her eyes averted. Ino was already halfway out of her apartment, her left hand gripping the edge of the door. She stared at Sakura's distracted expression for a long moment, noticing how that grisly, pallid colour had been replaced by a much less alarming porcelain tone, her eyes no longer bloodshot nor quite as sunken and frightened as they had been the night before. There was a mark on her cheek, as if of the faintest bruise, and Ino felt an unwelcome jolt in her gut as she wondered if it had been her hand that left it. She swallowed her discomfort at the thought, put it out of her mind, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as she spoke. "Will you be here when I get back?"

Sakura met Ino's gaze and smiled guiltily. It made her look startlingly young. Then she shrugged, her eyes falling to her feet. "No one else knows I'm here," she said quietly.

Ino wondered if Sakura was implying that she had nowhere else to go, or that she _shouldn't_ have even been in Konoha at all. She was curious, really. Indeed, she was tempted to ask the other girl outright what exactly the circumstances of her return to Konoha were, but then again, Ino had places to go, and things to do. She shrugged dismissively. "Alright," she said. Then she pulled the door closed after her.

Ino tried her best not to think about Sakura as she headed for the stairs, and failed spectacularly. When she had met Sakura's eyes the night before, Ino had forced herself to avoid seeing the old Sakura again, to avoid falling into the same old traps that had bled her before. Now, though, she was rapidly coming to the realization that the Sakura she was leaving alone in her apartment simply _wasn't_ the same girl that she had known for so many years. She was so downtrodden, so broken, so afraid as to be almost unrecognizable. And this was little solace to Ino.

When Ino looked at Sakura, she didn't know what to feel anymore. She hated her, but could no longer see in Sakura what she had so despised for these two wretched years. She wanted to love her, but wasn't even sure if Sakura was capable of loving her back anymore. More than anything, though, she pitied her: a double-edged sword. Ino found herself torn between contempt for the other girl's state – a sickly vein of triumph that made her feel empowered, made her feel guilty – and the undeniable urge to save her - from her loneliness, from her pain, from herself.

Her hatred was shallow, and her sympathy dark. Ino wasn't sure why she had let Sakura stay. Perhaps she really did love the other girl unconditionally. Perhaps she really did want to destroy her. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Sakura at all; perhaps Ino had become some sort of emotional masochist, drawing Sakura ever closer as the knife in her back dug deeper and deeper.

But Ino was tired of introspection. For two horrible years she had seen herself through different eyes, finding faults in every word and every action. She had become convinced that there was something _wrong_ with her, deeply, fundamentally, something that had made Sakura turn on her, again and again. In the end, it had driven her past the point of caring. She had made a decision; she could either dwell on these emotionally fatal flaws or she could accept them. Her change of heart, however, went far beyond mere acceptance. Ino had _celebrated_ everything that was wrong with her. She thrived on dominating others, on treating them with cold disdain, on being the bitch. Ino had become a creature decidedly darker than the inherently vulnerable person Sakura had left.

And she never thought for a moment that she had made the wrong decision.

But that hurt, that confusion, that helplessness that Ino saw in Sakura now was throwing it all into question. Sakura had become a little girl lost, and Ino didn't know if she was seeking her out to save her, or if she was hunting her down to devour her.

The air was almost surprisingly cool as Ino stepped out of her apartment building and started down the street. The sun was more than an hour short of its zenith and shadows still cloaked the street heavily. Familiar faces turned to her every once in a while, friendly greetings from the people she had grown up around, kind smiles, passing words. Ino scarcely acknowledged most of them, offering at most a smile to Chouji's father, Akimichi Choza, and a heartless wave to Shikamaru's mother, that darkly severe woman.

She missed her old team mates. It seemed like all the boys she had grown up with, grown so close to, were gone, either always out on missions or having left the village entirely. Shikamaru, Chouji, Kiba, Shino, Neji, Lee and Naruto, along with a great number of the most able-bodied chuunin and jounin were off doing their part for allied Sunagakure, drained of blood and entangled in its own country's war. Sakura had gone as well, with Hinata and Tenten too, who was always trying to prove that women were more efficient killers than men could ever be. It seemed that Ino was the only one who got left behind. She had stopped doing missions only a few months ago, and while at first it had been a relief, an entirely necessary psychological and emotional panacea, now she was starting to get antsy. Perpetually bored with the more mundane side of village life, Ino was craving the nostalgia of old times. She missed her friends. This life of moments, of unfamiliar faces that were there and then gone again in the span of an evening, of indulgence without satisfaction, was not enough.

Maybe she would volunteer for a few missions again she considered as she reached the flower shop, having already dug the keys out of her purse. She had kept herself in as good a physical shape as ever, if only from habit. Godaime Hokage would, of course, probably submit her to an intense psychological examination before consenting to any of it, if only to remind her of the risks of war, to warn her that everything she had gone through may very well happen again.

As if Ino needed a reminder. She wasn't likely to ever forget that last botched mission. And even if she had, one glance at Sakura's glassy eyes, one touch of the seemingly countless freshly healed abrasions, one taste of her sanguine kisses served as reminder enough. Killers since earliest childhood, even the nearly two decades of exposure to violence did little to protect them from the rigours of this cruel life. War, it seemed, would break them all, one way or another.

Until then, though, Ino resigned herself bitterly to her flower arrangements.


	5. Four: Remember

**Four:** **Remember**

**Author's Note:** I still feel bad for not having updated in so long. So here's another update. Thanks to **hashire **for sticking with this story, and for always having the nicest things to say. Let's be friends, hashire!

I'm still unhappy with the way I'm writing right now, but I'll push through anyway. Practice, practice. And if I really need to, I'll do a rewrite. Later, later.

* * *

_  
_

_Ino was running again._

_Her stride was broken by the pain that plagued her, a pain not reflected by bodily wounds. Her breathing was far more ragged than exhaustion merited, broken by shuddering, half-formed sobs rather than tired lungs and a fiercely beating heart. Ino reached out, running hands along ribs, searching for wounds that should have been there but weren't, desperately seeking the blood that she knew was seeping from her body._

_Of course she wouldn't find it. This wasn't her body, after all._

_Stumbling through the forest, Ino didn't know where she was going. Unfamiliar hands, far too big, far too heavily calloused, reached out to part the branches as she clawed her way through the undergrowth. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't care. She was angry, so angry, and beyond reason. She was searching for hurt, for pain, for despair that could match her own. She was searching for a continuity between her mind and this foreign body, for symmetry._

_She thought she heard voices calling out to her, and she turned, too suddenly, tripped. She crashed to the ground all in a tangle of limbs, striking her face on the ground, as if she had lost control of this body's arms and legs. She felt too distant from the movement, from sensation and awareness. She was losing control, her own mind slipping away. She tried to focus: left leg, right arm, right leg, stand. Movement became stiff, almost robotic, an unnatural fixation on moving one limb at a time. Then, unbalanced, she was back on her feet and sprinting again._

_She could see blood on her hands, knew that it was her own. She tried so hard to ignore it, to look away, but it was all she could think about. Her spectacular failure, that unimaginable pain, the horror of feeling her own skeleton, broken, exposed to the touch of shaking hands. Then, anger. Hot, desperate, unnatural anger, rage, anguish. She was suffering and didn't want to admit it to herself. She was exhausted, but terrified of stopping._

_The forest suddenly broke around her and she stumbled free of the undergrowth, feeling the persistent itch of a dozen lacerations through torn clothes, feeling the burning pinpoints of thorns embedded in the cloth. Up ahead she could see that the ground suddenly dropped away; she had managed to make her way back to the ravine somehow, directionless, blind. It was oddly silent as she hurled herself towards the edge, feet skidding on dust as she came to a shuddering halt, brown eyes peering down._

_There was nothing below her for about a hundred meters, nothing but sheer cliffs, feather-tufted aeries, climbing vines and exposed root systems, and then there was the riverbed. She remembered how it looked in the spring, the waters swollen, rushing, roaring with the addition of the melting snows. Now, though, at the beginning of the dry season it seemed that the river had dwindled to a mere trickle, barely visible from this height._

_Ino would taste that water, she decided. She straightened, placing hands on knees to force herself upright, and then there were voices and footsteps behind her. She turned, slowly._

_"Kira!" Someone shouted, a strange face, confused. "Kira, what the hell is going on?"_

_Ino didn't say anything. She simply turned, shifted her weight, and allowed this body to topple over the edge of the cliff._

_Shouts followed her as she fell, quickly drowned out by the sound of rushing winds. She hadn't pushed away far enough, and her legs struck the cliff face as she tumbled, jerking hard on her legs, tearing skin and flesh and tendons, sending her into a helpless cartwheel, plummeting ever downwards. The pain threatened to dislodge her hold on this mind but she held on, wanting to see as much of the end as she could manage. Held on, but struggled ever more._

_The ground was rushing up towards her at an alarming speed. She wouldn't hit the water, she knew; she would miss it, would strike the exposed rocks of the dry bed. Of course, it made little difference to her._

_She was cutting it close, making it dangerous, but she didn't care. She was more than halfway to the ground when she forced these alien arms in front of her, trying to focus as the world spun around her on an unfamiliar axis, forcing these too-large hands to form the requisite seal. She opened her mouth, felt the rushing winds steal her breath away, waited._

_The ground rushed up._

_She closed her eyes, screaming to dispel the jutsu._

_And she _swore_ she could hear the horrifying crunch of a human body being obliterated by stone._

* * *

Startled awake with terrifying ferocity, Ino jolted upright, coming to her feet so fast that she struck her hip hard on the edge of the table. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision as a debilitating headrush settled in, blood draining from her face. Her heart felt like it had seized in her chest, and she clutched at her shirt, breathing hard and ragged. For a terrifying moment, she felt distant from her own body, as if her mind were pulling away, was abandoning her. Then, getting ahold of herself, she stopped.

And everything came rushing back.

The store was empty, silent, as was the street beyond. Darkness had fallen already. She didn't remember when she had fallen asleep, resting her head on crossed arms, her weight draped over the counter. All she remembered was noting to herself that she was very, very tired, and how much she wished that she had managed to get even the tiniest amount of rest the night before.

She could hear her own heart beating in the silence. She bit her lip hard, trying not to cry, trying hard to convince herself that it had been a dream and not a memory, forcing her hands to her sides to stop herself from searching for blood, for pain, for wounds that were now scars.

She was shaking.

She reached back to untie her apron before she tore it savagely over her own head, hurling it under the counter, not caring as it slipped free and pooled on the floor. She grabbed at her purse, her keys, and got up to leave the store. It was long past closing time, and though she should have at least straightened up the place a little, she couldn't be bothered. All she wanted to do was go home, regardless of what might be waiting there for her. She didn't want to think about that, didn't want to think about anything.

She was suffering, now, and she admitted it to herself. All she wanted to do was give in to her primitive urges to seek comfort, safety, familiarity.

Nearly two streets away from the store, Ino wondered suddenly if she had even locked the store as she left it. A street later, she told herself that she didn't even care. Two streets further along, and her apartment building came into sight. Her tired eyes found her own windows, her own balcony. Her room was dark. She wondered briefly if Sakura was even there anymore.

Wondered, and prayed. She didn't want to be alone tonight.

* * *

Sakura was still there.

She had been lying down on Ino's couch, looked as if she had been sleeping before Ino's clumsy entrance startled her upright. She had bedhead, looked adorable, would have made Ino grin in spite of herself if only she weren't quite so upset. She looked confused, out of place, apprehensive at Ino's return; she looked as frightened as the blonde did, her expression twitching from defensive aloofness to selfless concern, coming around the couch when she saw Ino's panic, heard her frantic breathing, saw the trembling of her shoulders. She stopped herself, half-way, as if suddenly remembering that it was not her place to go to Ino anymore.

Ino stared back at her for a long moment, torn. She wasn't quite sure what she wanted. No, that wasn't quite right. She knew what she wanted, but she was unsure of what she _should_ have wanted, of whether or not she could deal with it if she got it, of what would happen if she didn't. She was afraid when she knew she should have been apathetic. She was desperate when she knew she should have been strong. She was suffering when she knew she should feel nothing.

Ino began to cry.

And when Sakura came to her, her heart sang.


	6. Five: Reaction

**Five: Reaction**

**Author's note:** Nothing to say here, people! Move along.**  
**

* * *

Ino couldn't sleep.

She had been lying there, completely still, for nearly an hour now, staring out into the near darkness of her bedroom, blinded by digital scarlet as her alarm clock documented the deepening of the night and the darkening of her mood. The minutes ticked by, outrageously slow, as if in some sort of cosmic mockery of her shame and discomfort. She wanted to leave but had no where to go; wanted to forget but had too much to remember; wanted to rest, but didn't deserve the comfort.

She could hear Sakura's breathing; slow, deep, raw. Ino had fled to the opposite side of the bed, hugging the edge so closely that her right arm hung off the mattress. She didn't want to feel Sakura's presence anymore, but her efforts made little difference. Every touch, every breath, every ethereal whisper of gentle submission, it was all burned into the forefront of Ino's mind. Somewhere along the way Ino had caught herself, tried to stop herself, lashed out at Sakura in any way she could think of, tried to make her go away. But Sakura had reacted only with acceptance, the forgiveness in her voice writ large in arms that embraced, hands that caressed Ino's face, Ino's shoulders, Ino's back. Though she could scarcely see the other girl in the crude reddish glow that blanketed the bed, every glimpse showed Sakura's expression to be so devoid of hatred and disgust.

Sakura had simply looked at Ino, and was glad for any and all attention.

Typical Sakura, that. After all, wasn't that what the entire Uchiha obsession had been all about? Maybe she had felt something for that scum, briefly, superficially, but in the end what it really got her was Ino's incessant attention. The rivalry, the insults, the sporadic violence; Sakura had begun to crave Ino's narrowed gaze, her threatening words. Any attention was good attention. It was easy, though, to confuse the true object of each other's jealousy. Back then, neither of them knew what they felt for each other, what they felt for Sasuke, what was real and what was just some shallow emotional construct, a bitter territorial struggle for each other's hearts, with little understanding of the enemy and even less of victory. After Sasuke had left – no, betrayed them all – little had changed between Sakura and Ino. With this came the realization of the true object of the game.

But Ino didn't want to play these games anymore.

Sakura had come, asking Ino to turn back the clock on their relationship, but Ino refused to set herself up for that betrayal again. Sakura didn't deserve forgiveness, and Ino had no intention of granting it. So Ino had attacked her, wanting only to further damage the girl, to push her beyond recognition, to destroy everything that Ino had so loved about her in the first place.

And then, _this_.

Ino's brutal confidence had crumbled under Sakura's touch. Her mind had struggled to reassert self-control as her heart became mired in a confusion of hatred and affection. Sakura was warm when Ino only remembered her coldness; she was gentle when Ino wanted to despise her for being cruel; she was accepting, when Ino craved rejection.

Ino had warned Sakura that she could not win, and yet here she was, sleeping soundly while Ino wallowed in self-hatred and shame.

Her heart ached for having hurt her. Her mind screamed for having touched her.

Ino had to get out of there.

She flung back the covers and pushed herself upright. She was shivering before her bare feet touched the floor. Two steps towards the door and she stepped on some discarded article of clothing. She fell into a crouch, identifying it by touch as the shirt she had leant to Sakura the previous evening. Cold, vulnerable, exposed, she yanked the garment over her head, spending a long minute of rapidly mounting frustration trying to sort out which sleeve went where and getting her arms through. She felt around for the pants, crawling in the darkness on hands and bare knees until her desperately questing fingers caught hold of them. She stepped into them, straightened and pulled them up. Hands outstretched, reaching, she found the wall, found the door, pulled it open. Blinding light gushed into the room, throwing a rectangle of light across the bed, across Sakura's sleeping form. Ino didn't dare look back at the other girl – too far, her heart begged; too close, her mind raged – as she stepped out into the corridor, driven out of the comfortable darkness and into painful illumination.

She shut the door quietly behind her, trying hard to avoid waking Sakura, to avoid having to deal with her reality, and headed towards the bathroom. She caught sight of herself in the mirror – her pallid complexion, bloodshot eyes rendered alarmingly striking in the fluorescent light, her withdrawn expression framed by errant strands of blonde. She ran her hands under her long hair, pulling it out from the back of the shirt, frustrated by how disheveled she looked, unkempt and haggard. Her hair kept falling into her eyes so she pulled open one of the drawers, pawed through the disorganized pile of feminine products until she dug out an elastic band.

Holding the elastic between clenched teeth, Ino raked back her hair, her movements hasty, unforgiving. There was something desperate in these menial tasks, these insignificant movements; trembling hands seeking to force neatness, order, sanity on her appearance, on her thoughts, on her emotions. Her hair tied back tightly, Ino planted her palms squarely on the edge of the counter and leaned in close to the mirror, staring at herself, her distress, her pathetic weakness. There, in that awful lighting, she caught sight of crimson traces of Sakura's lips, blood from her gentle kisses, so faint, on her jaw, on her neck, on her mouth. She turned on the water, didn't bother waiting for it to warm up; splashed the frigid liquid on her face, scrubbed at it with her hands, desperate to be free of these remnants of Sakura's touch.

Her face dripping, bangs clinging to her skin, Ino could still _taste_ Sakura. She felt sick to her stomach as she fumbled for her toothbrush, scrubbing away the metallic remnants of Sakura's submission. She spat, disgusted, ashamed, frantic. She caught the rushing water in both hands, brought it to her mouth, tried to erase those memories from her lips. She turned off the water, groped for the nearest towel, pressed her face into cloth.

She didn't feel any better.

She didn't feel any cleaner.

She let the towel drop back onto the counter, inhaled deeply – ragged, shuddering – and exhaled.

She couldn't look at herself anymore.

As she turned away from her own reflection, her aching gaze fell on Sakura's clothes, neatly folded, filthy and torn, placed in the corner on the floor. Sakura had been there for two days now, living in borrowed clothes, her old ones so in need of repair that Sakura would probably be better off just throwing them out. Ino blinked, her gaze lingering; she thought of Sakura, of her hair, her skin, her eyes, her lips; memories of her touch made Ino feel lightheaded, weak, warm.

She reached out, caught hold of Sakura's clothes -

- stood, pivoted sharply -

- and hurled them away from her.

She was striding down the hall, towards the kitchen, before Sakura's clothes even hit the floor. She quickly detoured to the front door to collect the empty glass from the shelf where she had placed it two nights ago, cringing when she felt those dried traces of forgotten blood from Sakura's fingers, and brought it to the sink. Water running, soap in hand, Ino scrubbed the glass clean, meticulously, desperately. She held it up to make sure it was clean, lowering it back under the flow of water and running her thumb along the rim as if to be absolutely sure of its cleanliness.

Finally satisfied, she turned off the water, moved to place the glass on the counter – and accidentally struck the bottom of her cupboards. Glass shattered. Ino flinched as it fell to the counter, an almost pleasant chiming of broken shards. She froze, staring at the half-broken glass in her hand, her eyes darting back and forth between the scattered shards and the remnants still intact.

Ino hated _everything_.

She screamed through gritted teeth as she hurled the broken glass down into the sink, not caring as it exploded everywhere, throwing glittering shards across the counter, across the floor.

Ino hated Sakura.

She sidestepped, not even wincing as glass ground into the bottoms of her bare feet, and slammed her arm down on the counter. With a vicious swipe, she swept most of the glass off the counter and into the sink, not caring as shards dug into her elbow, her forearm, the blade of her palm.

Ino hated herself.

She tried to brush the broken glass off her skin, succeeded only in driving the shards even deeper into her fingers, into her palms. It itched as it stung, and Ino bit down hard on her lip, her feet leaving little smears of blood as she staggered backwards, stopping only when the counter behind struck her back.

Motion caught her attention. She whirled, fists clenched.

Sakura was standing there, dressed in Ino's clothes, her innocent face marred with confusion, concern, distress. Her eyes were on Ino's bloody forearm, riveted.

Ino shut her eyes tightly. "Get out," she hissed.

Sakura didn't move.

Ino took a sudden step towards her, swiping at her with one itching, stinging hand, intending to hit her, to knock her down. Sakura dodged, scrambled backwards, flinching as Ino screamed at her. "Get out! Get the fuck out of my home!"

Ino watched Sakura back away, her chest heaving, vision swimming. Sakura stepped into her shoes, her eyes on Ino's. Everything seemed like it was moving so fast; everything except Sakura, her movements sluggish, hesitant. "Ino---" she whispered.

"Shut up!" Ino shrieked, her hands at her face. "Shut up! Don't you fucking dare say anything to me! Don't you dare!"

"Ino!" Sakura pleaded.

"Get out!" Ino repeated. Her voice broke, then. Tears flowed, unbidden, uncontrollable. Her tone lost its violent insistence, degraded to a frantic plea. "Just leave!" Ino wanted to hit her, to hurt her, but an insistent, irrational fear of even _touching_ Sakura caught hold of her, drove her back a step.

Broken, hysterical, Ino didn't care about control anymore. She didn't care about dignity or rationality or sanity. She lashed out at Sakura, hurling words, insults, anything she could think of, anything to drive the other girl away. Sakura had broken her heart twice, and now she would do it again. Ino hated her; she hated her but loved her, blamed Sakura for ruining everything but insisted that Sakura was the only one who could make it all better.

Sakura, with her beauty and her warmth, with her words and her gentle touches, was the only person Ino really wanted.

Ino needed Sakura, desperately, irrationally, insanely.

Ino needed her so badly that it was killing her.

"I don't ever want to see you again!" Ino sobbed. "Get out and don't come back!"

Sakura turned away, reached out to take the black jacket down from the hook, and set to work unlocking Ino's door. By the time Sakura got the door open – mere seconds later, her movements so sure, so dexterous – Ino was weeping helplessly.

"You ruined everything," she was saying, over and over again, her knuckles pressed hard into her eye sockets. "I hate you."

Sakura stepped out into the corridor, hesitating, trying to meet Ino's gaze, but the distraught blonde wouldn't even look at her.

"I hate everything about you!" Ino screamed.

Sakura pulled the door shut quietly.

Ino's heart turned to dust in her chest.

She turned back into the kitchen, her hands catching hold of the edge of the sink, gripping hard. There was a shard of glass caught under her right palm, but she tightened her grip even more, leaning over the sink and coughing so hard she thought she might vomit. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't breathe.

_I don't need her,_ she told herself, over and over again. _I don't want her._

She sank to the floor slowly, almost gracefully, one bloody hand still gripping the edge of the counter, the other at her face, touching her skin, touching her lips. Her sobs sounded strangled in her own ears, her voice weak and mangled. Everything hurt.

She loved Sakura so much.

But she hated everything about herself.


	7. Intermission: Recollection

**Intermission: Recollection**

**Author's Note**: Flashback! I _told_ you it was coming. Counterpart to the prologue.

* * *

"Don't touch me," Sakura hissed. Her eyes were averted meekly and her expression was pained and guilty, though all this was overshadowed by the way she lashed out, slapping Ino's hand away with unwarranted violence.

Ino felt that familiar ache rising in her throat, that pain in her chest, and she bit down hard on it, gritting her teeth so hard she thought she might break a few. "This is bullshit, Sakura,' she pointed out, her blithe tone forced, mangled. "Don't tell me you've _changed your mind_."

"I meant what I said," Sakura told her. "I don't want to see you anymore."

Ino let her head fall back, her grin so full of teeth. "Ha!" she shouted at the ceiling, walking back a few staggering steps, laughing bitterly, shaking her head. "Bullshit," she sneered.

"No, Ino---"

"I never realized how much you fucking _lie!_" Ino snarled at her, with sudden uncontrollable vehemence.

Sakura suddenly seemed to find her backbone, and her eyes darkened. "I'm not like that, Ino," she muttered. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

"Not like _what_?"

"Not like _you!_"

Ino was still laughing, not so much because she found any of this particularly humorous but because it infuriated the other girl. She was trying to mask her own feelings, the hurt and the outrage, the disgust at herself for ever being vulnerable enough that the other girl's words would pain her so. "I never forced you into any of this, Sakura," Ino told her matter-of-factly. "You were never anything but willing."

"Are you really so full of yourself? Thinking that anyone and everyone falls for your charms, regardless of gender. Flaunting your body, whoring out that pretty face…"

"You're awfully narrow-minded if you think that this had anything to do with gender," Ino hissed.

"And you're awfully single-minded if you've managed to construe my feelings of friendship towards you as lust."

Ino was still smiling, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. She crossed one arm over her stomach and bent her other at the elbow, her hand on her own cheek, little finger just touching her lower lip. "I can't believe these lies you're spouting, Sakura." She sounded deceptively benign. "There is no way our relationship could have lasted this long if it was so one-sided."

"Apparently it could," Sakura retorted bluntly.

"Every kiss," Ino mumbled contemplatively. "Every touch, every promise, every whisper." Her eyebrow quirked, challengingly. "Every _moan_." Sakura's eye twitched almost imperceptibly, though Ino caught it. Her grin suddenly turned smug, insolent. "You're a terrible, terrible liar, Sakura."

"Stop calling me that," Sakura warned.

"Then stop lying." Ino's voice was like crimson silk, seductive if only for the promised threat, the thread of violence that wound its way around every word. Sakura watched her lips when she spoke, the superficiality of her own threats obvious. Ino couldn't stop grinning.

"Stop looking at me like that," Sakura said.

"It takes two, Sakura," Ino spoke to her condescendingly, self-assuredly, so certain of her own advantage. "You know how this works. I undress you, you undress me." Sakura looked away when Ino dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. "I kiss you, _you fuck me_."

"It was a mistake," Sakura piped up suddenly. Then, almost as an afterthought: "To think that you would ever change."

"Don't fix it if it ain't broke," Ino chuckled.

"I can't believe your arrogance." Sakura finally raised her eyes from the floor. "You're a disgusting person, Ino."

"If you say that to me again, I'll throw a fucking knife in your leg."

"Try me," Sakura spat.

Ino paused for a moment, looking Sakura right in the eye. Then, as if in preparation to raise her arms, to strike the pink-haired kunoichi, the slightest tensing of the muscles in her shoulders, the slightest shifting in her weight. That was all the encouragement Sakura needed, and she threw out a fist. Ino was too close to dodge the long-armed swipe, and she caught Sakura's knuckles across the face. She stumbled back, one hand on her face, laughing as she cried out in pain, taking a few staggering steps sideways. She bent double, one hand on her knee, the other covering the left side of her face. "Ow," she said. "You hit me in the fucking eye." She straightened up suddenly, inhaled through her teeth, and lowered her hand. Her left eye was watering, and she blinked rapidly.

"Don't—" Sakura warned, but Ino was already stepping into her. She blocked the brutal uppercut but didn't catch the knee that sank into her stomach, driving the air from her lungs. Ino pressed her forearm across Sakura's throat, forcing her upright and pushing her back towards the wall, intending to pin her in place. Sakura regained her balance, set her feet, and caught Ino suddenly by one wrist, then the other. Ino grit her teeth in sudden expectation of pain, feeling that surge of inhuman strength in Sakura's arms, and felt her knees buckle when the pink-haired girl forced her arms back behind her with such ferocity that her elbows seemed like they nearly touched.

It felt like she might tear Ino's arms right out of their sockets, but the blonde wouldn't give her the benefit of crying for mercy. She bit down on her scream, allowing her pain to manifest only as a strangled sound in her throat. Sakura was suddenly pressed up against her, her chin on Ino's shoulder, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath again.

Ino pressed her cheek against Sakura's, her mouth at her ear, and forced herself to laugh as if in wry amusement. "I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me," she joked inappropriately.

"I warned you," Sakura whispered, as if she regretting having to hurt the other girl.

"Don't apologize," Ino sneered sarcastically. "I'm rather enjoying this opportunity to get closer to you."

Sakura forced her arms back even further momentarily, but Ino's sound of pain sounded more sensual than anything. As if in disgust, Sakura suddenly released her and, in a continuation of the fluid movement, shoved Ino away from her. Ino crashed backwards into her kitchen table, taking a moment to get her legs back under her, wincing as she brought her arms forward. Her left shoulder hurt so badly she feared briefly that Sakura had done damage.

"I hate you," Sakura said. "I hate your insufferable arrogance. I hate that ugly sneer."

"You just hate the confidence that you could never have," Ino replied. "You're still that same little girl, hiding her face behind her hair. I don't think you've changed at all."

"Perhaps not," Sakura muttered. "I think I was better off back then, anyway, before you tried to contaminate me."

Ino refused to let herself be hurt by Sakura's words, clenching her fists suddenly, converting her pain into anger. She had done so much for Sakura over the years, picked her up whenever she stumbled, encouraged her to build her strength with that old schoolgirl rivalry, was there for her when Uchiha broke her heart, and Sakura had nothing but contempt for her, nothing but lies. Sakura was suddenly rigid, unyielding, too strong.

This wasn't _her_ Sakura. Sakura was supposed to be kind, empathetic, welcoming. Ino bit her lip. Sakura used to hug her whenever she saw her, a little too close, a little too tightly. She used to sneak in little kisses whenever they turned a corner and found themselves alone for a mere moment. She used to blush whenever Ino caught her staring at her, could never suppress her grins when Ino found out that she was only pretending to be asleep, had eyes only for her when they were out in a crowd.

Ino wasn't sure what had happened to her Sakura, though she dreaded the answer to the question of who was at fault. Perhaps Ino was too liberal, too flirtatious, too willing to hide the true extent of her relationship with the other girl. Ino's guilty conscience told her that this is what they should be fighting over, that this is what she should apologize for.

But this wasn't what Sakura was saying. And so she didn't apologize. She was being deliberately cruel, and suddenly Ino didn't feel like the one at fault anymore. "I don't think I want to hear anything else you have to say," she told Sakura coldly.

Sakura opened her mouth to say something, stopped herself, changed her mind. "Good bye, Ino." She said. She turned, headed for the door, left Ino standing there with her aching arms crossed. She paused at the door, pulling it open as she looked back, met Ino's eyes one last time.

"Go to hell, Sakura," Ino said to her, and she turned her back on the other girl before Sakura had even pulled the door shut behind her.


	8. Six: Retreat

**Six: Retreat**

**Author's Note: **I'm so thrilled that people actually like this story! Mega thanks to **pia z**, **ShadowDragon109**, **Momo01**, **1010'jin**, and **Vld** for reading and reviewing!And uberthanks to everyone who added this story to their favourite's list. What a confidence boost!

* * *

If Sakura had been thinking clearly, she might have found the cosmic parallels amusing.

But then again, had she been thinking clearly when she left Ino's, she probably would have come up with someplace to go, rather than wandering through the dark village as if she were waiting to come across something that would give her a reason to be. She had been sitting on the stone bench near the town gate staring at some empty point in space between herself and the ground, fingers clenched tightly into fists. She was trying hard not to cry – Ino had never liked her when she cried, had looked down on her when she did – but still, the tears fell freely, pattering softly onto her knees, soaking through the borrowed clothes.

She felt sick. She was shivering, though her head throbbed with a burning headache, the heat palpable at the back of her eyes. She was nauseous, aware of the fact that she hadn't had anything substantial to eat for at least a few days now, wracked by an emptiness that drained the strength from her limbs and sent dull, distant pains lancing through her stomach. Her throat itched and ached, existing pain exacerbated by her harsh sobbing as she stumbled up and down the streets of Konoha. None of that was important, though. All she could think about was how colossally hollow her entire world had become.

She lay down on the bench, wrapping the black jacket as tightly around herself as she possibly could, feeling her ribs through the cloth as she did so. She didn't know why she kept this filthy jacket around. Perhaps as a reminder of why she was here, of what she had come looking for in Konoha. But all that had changed now. She had come to realize that she hadn't returned to the village because she wanted to go home, or because she wanted to see friends or family – she didn't want any of those things. She wanted Ino, the last person she had seen before she left two years ago and the only person she had sought out when she returned.

But she meant nothing to Ino, apparently. After all that emotional flip-flopping, Ino made her choice. She had asked – no, demanded, ordered, begged, pleaded – for Sakura to go away, to stay away from her. Forgiveness from Ino was too much to ask, Sakura should have known that from the beginning.

But it was all that Sakura had left to hope for.

Now she had nothing.

Sakura didn't know how long she lay there, on that cold stone bench, before she began falling asleep. She had stopped shivering, her mind blanking itself out mercifully, her body accepting the cold and the hunger and the pain. At first, when that soft voice called out behind her, she didn't even register that it had said her name. A hand touched her shoulder, gripped her gently, and rolled her over. Sakura half-opened her eyes.

It was Kotetsu, his face so familiar with that line of bandage crossing his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Over his shoulder she could faintly see Izumo, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression one of faint concern. Sakura blinked, found herself suddenly struck by a horrible sense of déjà vu. It had been Kotetsu and Izumo who had found her on this very bench so many years ago, when she had failed to stop Sasuke from leaving the village. It seemed like these two were always around when Sakura's love was brutally rejected.

"Hey," Kotetsu called out softly. "Wake up."

"If you sleep here, you'll catch a cold," Izumo piped up.

Sakura didn't say anything to them and simply rolled over again, putting her back to them and the rest of the street.

Kotetsu turned to glance back at Izumo and they spoke to each other quietly, though Sakura didn't care what either of them had to say so she didn't bother listening. She didn't even protest when Kotetsu leaned over, gathered her up in his arms, and carried her back towards the village.

To their credit, and much to Sakura's relief, neither Kotetsu nor Izumo tried to talk to her as they walked, though it might have had something to do with the fact that Sakura kept her eyes closed, deliberately slowed her breathing, and pretended to be asleep. She remained insolently ignorant of her surroundings until she heard a door open and felt the temperature around her change as Kotetsu stepped through it. She suddenly felt very sick again when she found herself surrounded by that ghastly familiar smell of the inside of a hospital.

This was the very last place she ever wanted to be again.

An iron fist clenched around her insides. She jolted in Kotetsu's arms, planting one cold hand against his shoulder and pushing herself away from him. He dropped her legs and set her down, but held tightly onto her arms when she tried to pull away. "What—?" he started.

Sakura cut him off sharply. "I don't need to be here," she rasped.

"Sakura," Izumo began, putting a hand on Sakura's shoulder to still her. "You're not well," he told her. As if she didn't already know.

"I'm fine," she snarled. She managed to twist out of Izumo's grasp and then pulled her left arm free. Kotetsu still had her by her right wrist. She took two steps and strained against his strength, trying to pull herself free. _Stupid_, she thought. _Childish_, but she just wanted to get out of the hospital, to get away from the medics that knew her, to get out of the harsh lights and that awful smell of pain and despair.

She wanted to get away so desperately but she couldn't, didn't have anywhere else to go, wasn't strong enough to stand on her own.

Sakura slipped, fell to her knees, one hand hitting the floor hard while the other remained twisted and held behind her back. Not wanting to hurt her, Kotetsu let go. Sakura didn't try to get up again. She hid her face when a helpless sob choked its way out of her throat. Someone came around in front of her, kneeled down and put their arms around her. She could tell just by looking at her knees that it was a nurse, and when she spoke to her Sakura heard a familiar voice.

"I don't want to be here." Sakura was sniffling and pitiful, still hiding her face.

"I know," said the nurse, but she didn't. "We just want to you get some rest and then you can leave." She was lying, but Sakura didn't bother calling her on it. She stood when hands lifted her up from under her arms, allowing herself to be led to a room. When she looked up again, Kotetsu and Izumo were long gone, and the nurse was sitting her on the edge of a bed and trying to examine her. Sakura remained deliberately uncooperative to the point where the poor woman simply gave up, opting instead to rest two fingertips against Sakura's forehead and performing a sedating jutsu, one that Sakura herself knew well.

Feeling sluggish and defeated, Sakura gave up, allowing the woman to put her to sleep and thinking only of how much she _despised_ hospitals.


	9. Seven: Relive

**Seven: Relive**

* * *

_Sakura was gritting her teeth so hard that her entire head ached._

_Bloody to her elbows, wrist-deep in someone's mangled torso, her vision started to blur. At first she hardly noticed as the world around her took on the look of monochromatic crimson watercolour; at first she nearly appreciated the softening of the world around her. Then, as the tears spilled with the gentle coaxing of her eyelashes, Sakura sudden realized that she couldn't do this anymore._

_The war between Wind and Earth was taking its toll on Sunagakure. All day, every day, the walking dead staggered into the hospital, dragging their comrades, sometimes even pieces of them, unwilling to let go of their friends, of their families. Sakura couldn't even speak to them anymore, these shattered lives. Even if they would listen, she didn't know what to say. Empathetic by character, Sakura's feeble offering of comfort amounted to nothing in their anguish, and as such she found herself with little value here in Suna. All she could do was try to put them back together, setting bones and staunching weeping wounds, and even that seemed like it was worth so little._

_The only face she had recognized in all this time was Kankuro; still hooded and painted, even his frightening visage was some comfort to her. Every once in a while he brought in the dying, or rallied the wounded, or spoke to the other doctors. He never spoke to her, though. He had been one of the first casualties she had treated, his flesh sawed clean through to the bone, winding designs carved right into his femur by razor-sharp wire still tangled in tendon and ligament. It had taken a long time to treat him. Too long; dozens of wounded had died while she focussed only on this familiar face, on this non-lethal wound. Kankuro wouldn't forgive her. His every glance was cold, accusing, resentful._

_The boy beneath her hands breathed his last._

_Sakura staggered back from the table, feeling his thickly clotted blood drying on her skin, flaking off with every twitching movement of her fingers. Assistants moved in to remove the corpse; Sakura couldn't even look at his dead face, his slack expression, his staring eyes. She wiped at her eyes with her shoulders – practically the only clean spot on her entire arm – and took a deep breath, her exhalation shuddering. She was trembling._

_"Somebody help me!" A male voice was shouting, trying desperately to be heard over the cacophony of sobs, pleas and stern orders. Sakura turned, slowly, as if in a daze; a man was elbowing his way to the front of the crowd, a young child – too young, maybe only four or five years old – wrapped in a black jacket and hanging limply from his arms. "Somebody please, do something!"_

_Sakura stood there and watched him in his panic as he pleaded with the orderlies, quickly becoming belligerent, shouting accusations at them, swearing at them, struggling to push past. He saw her, then, standing in front of that empty table, and bolted for her. She backpedalled away from him, two staggering steps, and then he was setting the child down on the table. His eyes were wild with desperation and his voice was high and garbled with hysteria._

_"My daughter – please, she's dying! Do something!" And then he was sobbing, helpless, heartbroken._

_Sakura turned to the bundled up figure, inhumanly still in the chaos, her stained hands reaching to open the jacket. Her heart lurched to life in her chest – dead for so many hours already – and leapt into her throat, strangled her. A tiny face, so serene, eyes closed as if she were sleeping. Her blonde hair had been tied up in pigtails, though one of them was starting to come loose. Sakura knew she was dead before she even opened the rest of the jacket, before she saw her torso – torn wide open, skin, flesh, bone charred and blackened, still slowly oozing coagulating crimson despite the stillness of her heart._

_The man – the girl's father, she assumed – was on his knees, screaming and sobbing. There were attendants at his side, lifting him to his feet, leading him away, while another gathered the tiny corpse in her arms and carried her out._

_Sakura's heart felt like it was going to burst. She leaned heavily on the table, her fingers clenching tightly around fistfuls of the abandoned jacket – heavy and damp and saturated with gore – and struggled to breathe, to settle her violently twisting stomach, to swallow the tears and the bile that threatened to rise within her. She was suffocating, here, in this forsaken hospital; she was deafened by the screams, blinded by the wounds, made insensate by the pain._

_This war was killing her._

_Voices shouted at her, questioningly, as she fled. The doors were heavy as she burst through them, throwing her into an awkward stagger out into the street. The surprisingly cool night air struck her like a punch in the face. She dropped the jacket – not even realizing that she had been carrying it in the first place – tripped over it, skinned her knees on the rocky terrain, and was suddenly violently ill. Her empty stomach tied itself into excruciating knots as she coughed and heaved and wretched, spitting bitterness into the sand, sand that blew into her eyes, stuck to her hands, ground into her knees._

_All she could smell, could taste, was blood. She felt saturated in it, felt like she was drowning in it. She feared that she would never be clean again._

_Someone said her name, far above her. She didn't – couldn't – respond. Shuffled footsteps, closer; a single crutch thudded into the edge of her vision. Sakura glanced up then, her vision sluggishly climbing up the crutch to the shoulder it supported, then to the face. Kankuro; still painted, still hooded, still severe._

_"Sakura," he drawled. "Let me take you home."_

_His words weren't unkind, though they were curt. He held out one hand – there was blood under his fingernails and in the creases of his palm – and when she didn't take it, he caught hold of her upper arm and started to drag her upright. She relented without argument, unsure if she even had a voice anymore. She was still trembling; Kankuro put something over her shoulders. That black jacket, surprisingly heavy, damp and now sandy; a funeral shroud for the dead and dying children of Suna. Sakura wondered if Kankuro was being kind or cruel when he wrapped it around her._

_Sakura wasn't staying very far away from the hospital. As they traversed the streets, Kankuro kept silent, his asymmetric footsteps steady. Sakura refused to look at him, refused to look up at all. Every few steps she heard voices calling out in the darkness whilst the faint keening echoing from the hospital faded mercifully, studded by sporadic footsteps rushing past into the night. With every step that jacket weighed more heavily on her shoulders. Her footsteps began to drag. When she stumbled, Kankuro offered no assistance._

_They arrived at Sakura's apartment, and after holding the door open for her, Kankuro turned abruptly without a word and shuffled away. Sakura didn't watch him go, instead setting herself single-mindedly to the task of ascending four flights of stairs. She was in a daze as she stumbled down the corridor, pushing open the door she never locked – not that she had any possessions of her own _within_, anyway – blind and deaf to the world around her. The door closed behind her. Silence rang harshly in her ears. She shrugged that awful garment from her narrow shoulders and made for the bathroom._

_Running water was a luxury that Sakura couldn't afford in Sunagakure, out in the middle of the desert. The water in the washbasin was cool, though hardly refreshing, as she sank her hands into it, watching the water turn rather rapidly to crimson. She took up the soap and began scrubbing at her hands, her wrists, her arms, with a sort of absent viciousness. Her skin was raw and sore by the time she had finished, but she was clean. Water had sloshed out onto the floor, onto her clothes and her feet, had soaked her chest – water now so filthy it was opaque._

_She pulled away from the basin, refusing to look at herself in the mirror. She knew what she would see, anyway; defeat, horror, illness, exhaustion… failure. She paused, staring at the bed – the bed that she had been unable to sleep in for god knows how many days already – at the room, so bare it looked unlived in, so inhospitable she felt like she didn't belong. There was nothing for her, here, in this room._

_There was nothing for her, here, in Sunagakure; in Wind._

_She wept when she thought of home._


	10. Eight: Reevaluate

**Eight: Reevaluation**

**Author's Note:** Oh, dear god. I've been gone a long time. I'm almost done school, though – only about a month to go, and only three exams, and then I'm done for another four months – so I'll probably be finishing this story sometime soon. Possibly. But until then, I'm still drowning in indigenous autonomy in northern Mexico, pre-WWII Japan, the Nazi blitz of London and Coventry, and post-apocalyptic fiction, so we'll see what I can get written and posted. I was also kind of stuck on the story, but now I've figured out what I'm doing. I think? I don't know, I guess I'll have to wait for the reviews to come in to see if I'm actually on to something here.

Thanks again for reading!

* * *

Sakura had started seriously contemplating escaping from the hospital two days after she arrived. She had slept through most of the first day, awaking to find that someone had healed her throat while she slept and that she could finally breathe easily again. A nurse came in every once in a while to talk to her and to try and force her to eat. Sakura was seriously underweight, the nurse told her, and so she sat there and waited while Sakura tentatively choked down a meal, nauseated but finally able to eat something without throwing it back up.

No one else came to see her.

Sakura didn't mind so much. She didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to talk to anyone. She wasn't in the mood to catch up with old friends, to try to explain to her mother why she was gaunt and bruised and depressed and seriously ill. Sakura spent most of the day still and silent, as if simply waiting to fall asleep again. She wondered once if Ino would come, but immediately dismissed that notion as hopelessly idiotic. It was probably better if she stayed away.

On the third day, the door to her room opened and Shizune stepped through. Sakura glanced at her once, then quickly turned away. The Hokage's attendant set down the meal she had brought in and stood at the closed door, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in that familiar expression of perpetual concern. "Eat this," Shizune told her, gesturing at the meal. "Then we have business to take care of."

Sakura looked at Shizune as if she had never seen her before. Shizune had always been so friendly to Sakura, so supportive as she studied under Tsunade's tutelage. Now, looking tired and stressed, she couldn't even offer Sakura a 'hello' or a 'how are you.' Perhaps she just knew that she wouldn't have gotten an answer if she asked the latter. Sakura did as she was told, changed out of her hospital garb and into her borrowed clothes (which she thought she'd never get a chance to return to their owner) while Shizune waited outside her room, and then followed her out.

Sakura kept her head down when they got out onto the street, but thankfully no one called out or waved to her. Perhaps she had really been gone so long that no one recognized her anymore; perhaps anyone who had known her expected her to have been killed in the war, like so many before her; perhaps her shrivelled and defeated demeanour and ill-health really made that much of a difference. By the time they reached the Hokage's mansion she was exhausted; by the time they reached the top of the stairs and stood outside the Hokage's office, her breathing was laboured. She suddenly felt cold and uncomfortable. She didn't want to talk to Tsunade at all.

This wasn't going to go well.

Tsunade had been barely awake, resting her head on arms folded across the desk, but when she saw Sakura stumble in she was on her feet in an instant, settling back into her seat only once Shizune began to explain where she had found her. Sakura was surprised that the Hokage hadn't already known that she was back in Konoha, and the look that darkened Tsunade's face while she listened to Shizune seemed a pretty good indication that she was surprised herself, and none too pleased about it.

Tsunade was staring hard at Sakura, her fingers steepled together, elbows resting on the edge of her desk. She hadn't said anything since Shizune began speaking. She looked disappointed. Sakura kept her eyes on the floor. Shizune finally finished her explanation and the silence blanketed the office for a long, uncomfortable moment. Sakura was content to wait until she was spoken to, out of deference, out of denial, out of a childish urge to hide from her responsibilities as a kunoichi and a medic-nin. The silence hummed in her ears. Suddenly, there was motion in the corner of her eye and she glanced over distractedly; Shizune had bent low to collect Tonton, cradling the pig in her arms, the attendant's eyes on Tsunade.

"Sakura," Godaime Hokage spoke, and her voice snapped so fiercely that Sakura was startled. "I expected better from you."

Sakura was too ashamed to say anything to her.

"You were the last person I'd expect to turn her back on her duties." She pushed herself back away from the desk, stood again and walked to the window. "You realize that this can be construed as treason." After a long moment Tsunade tore her gaze from the sun-blanketed village below and gave Sakura a look so severe that she felt it almost as much as she saw it. "You were given direct orders to stay in Sunagakure as the leader of a team and you have abandoned that team to return here." Tsunade's voice was cold, severe. "Care to explain yourself?"

"I couldn't do it anymore," Sakura said quietly.

"Hmph," Tsunade snorted.

"Tsunade-sama, she isn't well—" Shizune broke in quickly.

"I can see that," the Hokage snapped, cutting her off. Sakura flinched, keeping her eyes on the floor. Tsunade planted both palms on her desk and leaned on it heavily. "Fixing this isn't going to be simple," she said, her voice unforgiving.

"I'm sorry," Sakura mumbled, pitiful. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I don't want that blood on my hands."

Tsunade suddenly stopped herself from replying, her expression becoming less severe, almost forlorn. She, too, knew what it was like to run from this pain. She knew what it was like when people died no matter what you did to save them. She remembered well those years of desperate hemophobia. She sighed again.

"I'm sorry," Sakura repeated.

Tsunade fell back into her seat and pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "Where are you staying?" She asked. A moment later she added, "I'm assuming you _are_ staying."

Sakura shrugged.

"Go home," Tsunade told her dismissively. "And stay there in case I need to find you."

Sakura nodded, turned and walked out.

She was halfway down the stairs when sudden footsteps behind her caught her attention. She turned; Shizune was bounding down the steps after her. "Sakura," she called. "Wait."

The pink-haired kunoichi did as she was instructed. She was exhausted, wanted to cry but refused to do so in front of Shizune, or anyone else she may see in the street while she trekked to her family's home as she had been instructed to.

"Sakura, you're not well," Shizune murmured. "Let me take a look at you."

"I can deal with it myself," Sakura told her.

"Then why haven't you already?" Shizune's voice was accusing, her eye critical.

Sakura shrugged. She didn't want to get into this conversation with Shizune, didn't want to have to try and explain that she could barely concentrate anymore, that she felt like she had lost the ability to control her chakra, to mould it into any usable forms. Sakura's mind and will were in tatters, and she didn't want to talk to anybody about it. She didn't want to talk to anybody about anything.

"Let me help you," Shizune begged.

Sakura turned to leave but the brunette tried stopped her with one hand. Sakura yanked her arm free savagely and thumped down the rest of the stairs, her steps heavy and graceless. Shizune didn't follow.


	11. Nine: Recultivate

**Nine: Recultivate**

**Author's Note:** You know what's a great song? _Loretta Young Silks_ by Sneaker Pimps. I was listening to it on accidental loop when I figured out what I was going to do with this story next, and now it's irrevocably tied to InoSaku. Damn it.

* * *

Sakura stepped out into the street and began weaving her way through the crowd, keeping her head down and her gaze low. Someone brushed up against her, too close, knocked into her shoulder; she didn't react. The entire world around her was dead sound upon her ears, her eyes unfocussed, walking emptiness. Sakura was so heartbroken and exhausted that she just wanted to find some place to lay down and die. Motivation, inspiration, love, all had abandoned her. She didn't even have vengeance to turn to, since there was no one she hated nearly as much as she hated herself. _Stupid,_ she thought to herself. _Weak, cowardly._ She hadn't changed, hadn't grown. She was still that annoying cry-baby who got in everyone's way and never had anything real to contribute.

With half a mind to simply go off and drown herself, Sakura turned off the main road and headed to the edge of the village, intending to walk along the river bank, if not to try to calm herself down then to at least get away from the other villagers and to put off going home for as long as possible.

She had almost reached the river and its bridge when she heard someone's footsteps behind her. Choosing to ignore the unwelcome interruption, Sakura wandered onto the bridge, folded her arms atop the railing, and stared down into her own jagged reflection in the meandering waters. Whoever had been following her stepped onto the bridge beside her, thumped their elbows down on the railing in a perfect mirror of Sakura's own pose, and leaned over the waters. Sakura caught sight of brown hair pulled up in odango-style buns, a softly grinning face, a rippling slash of pink.

Sakura looked up, caught Tenten's eye, and had only a grim expression of mildest surprise to offer.

Tenten kept her smile light, though from the way her eyes darted back and forth horizontally across Sakura's face, the pink-haired kunoichi knew she was concerned. "Yeesh, Sakura," she said. "I've been following you since you left the Hokage's mansion. It would have been nice if you stopped when I called you."

Sakura leaned back over the water. "You called?" She didn't mean to sound so rude but she couldn't help but be uninterested.

Tenten shook her head slowly, gripping the edge of the railing and leaning back, her chin lifted to the sky, and watched the slow progression of the clouds as they marched from horizon to horizon. Sakura cast a sideways glance in her direction. She noticed that the other girl was sporting a rather fresh scar along the side of her neck, wondered briefly what it was from. Sakura's mind wandered; Ino, too, had scars now, an ugly dissection of her perfect skin, criss-crossing her torso, rippling across ribs, reading like a journal of failure and pain. Sakura looked away quickly when Tenten lowered her gaze again.

They all had scars. Some just managed to bear them better than others.

"So, what are you doing back in Konoha?" Tenten asked.

Sakura didn't answer.

Tenten turned to her, that familiar conspiratorial gleam in her eye. Ever the gossip-monger, she nudged Sakura lightly. "You're not _supposed_ to be here, are you?"

Sakura still didn't answer.

Tenten's face fell perceptibly. She looked off over the waters. "Does Ino know you're back?"

_That_ got a reaction. "Yes," Sakura mumbled, and she could taste the bitterness in her own voice. Tenten was one of the few people that ever knew the true nature of Sakura's relationship with Ino. Either that, or she was one of the few people who had the nerve to ask them about it. Everyone else seemed to be either completely ignorant of the truth, like Naruto and Lee, seemed to be willing to dismiss it as mere sisterly affection, like Hinata and Kiba, or remained silent with their assumed knowledge, like Neji and Shino. Tenten had taken note rather quickly, and true to her nature, had asked them almost immediately; Sakura had blushed and stuttered, while Ino reacted to Sakura's loss of nerve with characteristic confidence and pride. Tenten had been thrilled, supportive, throwing ridiculous winks at the two girls from across crowds, as if to let them know that their secret was safe with her.

Sakura had always very much liked Tenten. She wondered now if that had to change.

"I just got back myself," Tenten went on calmly, simply carrying on the conversation. Sakura was glad that she was pretending that everything was alright. "Neji got hurt," she paused, looking away from Sakura briefly.

_And you weren't there to heal him,_ Sakura beat on herself silently.

"We thought it best to bring him back to Tsunade, rather than risk losing his eyes."

_And you will never be good enough to do the job,_ Sakura reminded herself bitterly.

Tenten rubbed at the scar on her neck distractedly.

Sakura stared down at the waters, trying not to cry.

"We all understand," Tenten told Sakura quietly. "We don't blame you for running away."

Sakura turned away so suddenly, as if she had been physically struck by the other girl, as if she had been bitten too deep. Immediately apologetic, Tenten reached out but Sakura yanked her arm back out of the other girl's comforting grasp and stepped off the bridge.

The entire weight of all her grief came crushing down at her at that moment. Kankurou's contempt, Tsunade's disappointment, Tenten's condescension, Ino's insane rancour, she deserved it all because she had let them all down. She deserved it because all that she had ever done was run away, from fear, from truth, from love. She was a coward, through and through, and her militant upbringing had forced her to believe that there was nothing lower than a coward. People like her were supposed to get killed in wars so they didn't have to live with their shame. But Sakura couldn't even manage that.

_Twenty-fifth clause,_ Sakura reminded herself. _A shinobi must not show any emotion in any situation. A shinobi must have a heart that will not allow him to cry._

But Sakura could not stop crying.

Tenten, awkward, unsettled, gave chase. "Sakura, wait."

"I don't want to talk to you," Sakura snarled, unforgiving.

"Sakura, please!" Tenten caught Sakura by the wrist and managed to turn her around, revealing furious tears in her eyes and teeth grit hard in a desperate attempt to keep them in check. "Let me help you!"

"I don't want _anything_ from you," Sakura hissed.

Tenten crossed her arms defiantly. "Things will work out, Sakura."

Sakura gave her a bewildered and vaguely disgusted look. "_What?_ You don't know anything, do you? You can't just---"

"You came back," Tenten cut her off and Sakura felt her heart fall still suddenly. "That's all she ever wanted from you."

Sakura froze for a moment and then turned away again. "She hates me," she said, no longer trying to outpace the other girl. "She hates everything about me. She drove me away."

"You hurt her pride," Tenten murmured. "She'll get over it."

Sakura stopped suddenly and turned partially towards the brunette, wanting to punch her for trivializing the rift between Ino and herself, but found her hand stayed by unconquerable emotional malaise. Instead, she simply stared at Tenten for a long moment, wondering exactly how much the other girl knew and how much she didn't.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Tenten asked her quietly.

Sakura shrugged. "I could always ask my parents for my old room."

"You can stay with me," Tenten told her. "I still have my apartment here."

"I almost think I would rather go home."

Tenten laughed lightheartedly, waving away Sakura's mild antagonism. "No, no. I promise I won't ask anymore questions."

Sakura didn't believe her, but when Tenten stepped back and waited, Sakura nodded and stepped up to follow.


	12. Ten: Retrench

**Ten: Retrench**

**Author's Note:** _Awkward_.

* * *

Sakura didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home, to be alone.

She had no idea what had possessed her to agree to go out to a bar with Tenten, and a karaoke bar, no less. But here she was, trapped, angry, depressed, and surrounded by well over a hundred tipsy, chortling, crooning patrons.

She hated it.

She sipped her drink slowly, sinking lower and lower in her chair while Tenten socialized mercilessly, throwing back drink after drink as she spotted old acquaintances and waved them over with a sort of pre-teen giddiness that Sakura found downright appalling. Sakura couldn't get drunk; alcohol was a depressant, she reminded herself, and right now she didn't think she needed any help in that department. So she sat there, biding her time, debating with herself whether or not she should try to force herself to have fun or if she should walk out. She slowly worked up the nerve to simply ask Tenten for her apartment keys, carefully weighing the chances of the girl agreeing over her trying to force Sakura to do something fun.

She had been huddled in Tenten's shadow for nearly an hour when the brunette suddenly stood and tottered her way to the stage, cheered on by the crowd and her own chemical ego-boost. The medic-nin didn't know if Tenten had a good singing voice or not, and didn't really care to find out. Suddenly no longer trapped against the wall, Sakura got up rather abruptly, stumbling over the brunette's unoccupied chair, and fled. She still wasn't sure if she should stay or go, however, and so as if in compromise she made a beeline for the washroom, thankfully finding the door unlocked.

Her ears were ringing as the door clicked shut behind her and blocked out most of the ambient noise of social life. Her fingers danced over the lock, and she found some relief in the sound it made as it thunked into place. She turned and put her back against the door, exhaling slowly. The washroom was a mess, and the lighting was so poorly designed that just being in there gave Sakura a headache, but its fundamental seclusion made it a perfect sanctuary.

Sakura walked to the sink, planted her hands on either side of the basin, and leaned close to look at herself in the mirror. She looked good, given the circumstances. Tenten had forced her to do something with her hair and had painted her face with makeup to hide the dark circles that seemed to have etched themselves under her eyes. She just looked very pale, and very tired.

Sakura leaned back form the sink and rubbed her face with both hands. Then, suddenly, someone pounded on the door. Sakura didn't respond, didn't move to vacate the washroom, but they knocked again, annoyingly insistent. Sakura moved to unlock the door and reached for the doorknob, but whoever was on the other side shoved the door open, forcing Sakura to jerk her face back out of the way or risk getting hit by it.

Tenten pushed her drunken face into the garish light and grinned. "I knew you were hiding!"

"Tenten, I think I want to---" Sakura began.

"Come, come!" The brunette caught Sakura by the wrist and dragged her back out into the bar. "Aren't you having fun?"

"No," Sakura muttered bluntly.

"Well, of course you're not going to have any fun hiding out in the bathroom! Let me get you a drink."

"No, thanks," Sakura insisted.

"Oh come on, Sakura!" Tenten chirped.

But Sakura wasn't listening. She was looking past Tenten, just over her shoulder, and suddenly looked _green_. Tenten spun around, caught a brief glimpse of Ino, then turned back to Sakura. The pink-haired kunoichi was staring, watching the beautiful blonde girl as she walked the length of the bar, drink in hand, all swaying hips and golden hair. She reached the bar, and some guy Sakura had never seen before turned to greet her, putting his arm around her possessively. Ino stepped into him, let him push her back against the bar, resting her elbows on the edge. She gave him a winning smile, tilting her face up to meet his as he leaned into her.

Sakura felt sick. "I want to leave," she told Tenten.

"No, no, no!" Tenten insisted, still hanging onto Sakura's arm. "You can't let her ruin your whole night!"

"There isn't much to ruin," Sakura told her coldly.

Tenten started dragging Sakura through the crowd and back to their table, which unfortunately brought Sakura within ten paces of the bar. She tried to keep her head down, to ignore everything around her, but she was helpless. She glanced up for a mere moment, her eyes met Ino's, and her heart stopped.

Ino had her cheek pressed up against his, her eyes staring over his shoulder at Sakura. Everything seemed to slow down. Her stare was coldly uncaring, maliciously challenging, smugly triumphant, all at once. She raised one eyebrow, turning slightly to kiss him on the neck at the same time as she slid her hand up across his chest and over his shoulder, pulling him closer.

With a careless jerk of her arm by Tenten, Sakura was dragged past and Ino was out of sight. Her heart thudded in her chest, half-stilled and sickly. She stumbled when Tenten let go of her to reach over the table and grab her glass. "Are you sure you don't want anything to drink?" the brunette asked her.

Without another thought, Sakura took Tenten's drink from her hand and downed it without flinching. Tenten looked at her warily before shrugging and sending off a friend to bring around another round of drinks. Sakura sank back into her seat again, staring at her own hands folded together atop the sticky table, and felt trapped.

And with every drink she downed, she felt her hatred and contempt of Ino grow _exponentially_.


	13. Eleven: Reassign

**Eleven: Reassign**

* * *

Sakura was fairly certain that the universe hated her when she arrived at the Hokage's office. She arrived almost at dawn, as per the written summons, miserable and bleary-eyed and hungover. Her head ached and her throat hurt and all she wanted to do was go back home and crawl into bed. But of course the world wasn't through with her yet; when she opened the door and stepping into the office, she found Ino waiting for her.

The blonde was standing in front of the Hokage's desk, all severe posture and crossed arms, the epitome of avarice and too much perfection. When Sakura let the door close behind her she half-turned, casting a morally vapid glance at the other girl before turning away again. She hadn't given anything of herself away in that brief moment of ocular contact, but Sakura suddenly felt naked and ugly and judged. Such was the new viciousness the blonde was capable of.

Tsunade glanced up at Sakura briefly before returning her gaze to whatever disordered documents were laid out across her desk. She, too, seemed newly gifted with the ability to make Sakura feel unimportant and very small.

The doors opened again and Shizune hurried in, followed by Tenten. The brunette gave Sakura a cheeky grin for the fleeting moment it took her to realize that Ino was there, and then her grin suddenly became hollow and humourless.

"You have a mission for us, Tsunade-sama?" Tenten asked, trying to recapture the Hokage's fragmented attention.

Godaime Hokage didn't answer for a long time. Instead, she flipped through the documents hurriedly, searching. As they waited, Sakura found herself trying to guess what the assignment would be, but found herself instead agonizing over the pitiable position that Tsunade was in, over the fact that she had been forced by circumstance to summon herself, Ino and Tenten to do the job. Sakura had no doubt that Tenten was just as gung-ho and capable as she had always been, but Sakura herself, with her ill-health and perpetually shattered concentration, was all but useless and Ino hadn't taken on missions for nearly a year. Sakura had heard from Tenten about her last mission and its spectacular failure, about the deaths of comrades that weighed heavily on her conscience, and she wondered if Ino would be able to pull herself together this time around.

Tsunade cleared her throat, and Sakura suddenly realized that she had been staring at Ino. She looked away quickly and found herself staring back at Shizune, who looked grim and uncertain. The Hokage pressed her fingertips into her temples and sighed heavily. "We've received word from Suna that Iwagakure has sent shinobi to attack Konoha."

Tenten looked startled. Sakura was still looking at Shizune. Ino was staring at some point in space between herself and the Hokage's desk.

"Apparently diplomacy has failed, and the Earth country is no longer willing to tolerate Konoha's interference in their war with Wind. Unfortunately, Konoha has overextended its military resources in response to Suna's increasingly desperate demands for support. Thankfully, this expeditionary force is somewhat small, and was diverted from existing forces placed in Wind, and so we can expect their numbers to have dwindled since Suna's report. But…" Tsunade trailed off, her breath rattling with frustration.

"Suna estimated their numbers to be just under forty," Shizune filled in. "But we have no idea how many will make it to the border, if any."

"We've already organized a provisional civilian watch along the border," Tsunade was still shuffling through the papers on the desk, and Sakura guessed they were reports from these civilian watchmen. _No wonder she can't seem to find whatever she's looking for, no doubt none of them know how to write an official report._ "We need you three to head up to the border and join the sentries. _If_ the enemy shows itself, you are to engage them in order to protect the sentries against possible reprisals and to prevent them from reaching Konoha." Tsunade looked up from the papers in apparent defeat. "If the enemy shinobi do not appear, you are to remain at the border until you're summoned back here. Understood?"

The three kunoichi nodded silently.

"Good. Tenten will be group leader. Tenten, I leave the organization of any weapons or provisions to you. You're to leave for the border immediately." Tsunade paused, trying to think of whether or not she missed anything. "Dismissed," she added curtly.

Tenten was the first out the door, with Ino stalking haughtily after her. Sakura turned to leave, but Tsunade's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Sakura, Ino, wait."

Sakura glanced back over her shoulder, and Ino stopped at the door.

Tsunade gave them both a severe look in turn. "Whatever is going on between you two," she said, _"fix it_. I don't need to tell you what could happen if you allow some personal vendetta to compromise this mission."

Sakura nodded, shamed. When she turned to leave, she found that Ino was already gone.

Sakura tried not to think of her own potential uselessness as they walked. It was a beautiful day, and though she found the breeze to be uncomfortably cool, the slanted rays of the sun that filtered through the foliage were enough to warm her, though it wasn't nearly enough to allow her to cope with Ino's cold demeanour. They had been travelling in complete silence for almost the entire day, the blonde giving Sakura mercifully wide berth, with poor Tenten caught in the middle. Sakura found herself staring at Ino's back for long periods of time, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists at the unbridled arrogance that seemed to blanket the other girl in an aura.

The sun was setting before Tenten called for them to stop and rest for the night. The brunette dutifully began setting up her tent, meanwhile chattering away as if to fill the gaping social hole that had opened up between them. "It really is awful how spread out we all are," she was saying. "I mean, it's a bit frightening that we were the only three shinobi at Tsunade's disposal."

"The only thing frightening about it is that we have to trust a _coward_ to watch our backs," Ino muttered darkly.

Sakura dropped her pack at her feet and turned slowly, rising to Ino's challenge. "But it is pretty awful that Tsunade was forced to send a _whore_ to do a shinobi's job," she shot back.

"Please," Tenten began, exasperated, trying to cut off the argument before it began.

"I hope you're not planning on running away from all your responsibilities again," Ino sniped back. "Just know that I'll be there to bury a few knives in your spineless back when you abandon us.'

"Why would I have to run away?" Sakura asked her, her voice heavy with unrestrained malice. "Tenten's in command, so I don't have to worry about you botching the mission and getting us all butchered."

Sakura felt smugly satisfied when all the blood drained from Ino's face. The blonde simply pivoted on her heel and walked away from Sakura. "I'll take first watch," she told Tenten quietly, and her voice was strained.

Sakura was still grinning when she turned and faced Tenten. The brunette was staring at Sakura in horror and vague disgust. "I can't believe you just said that," she muttered quietly.

"You should hear some of the things she's said to me," Sakura defended lamely.

"That wasn't right," Tenten told her. "That wasn't right at all." And she turned her back on Sakura, focussing on putting up the tent.

Sakura put her back to a tree and slid down into a sitting position, suddenly feeling sick with guilt and simultaneously indignant and angry. _Fuck Ino for picking a fight and losing. And fuck Tenten for judging me._

But it still wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.


	14. Twelve: Reconsider

**Twelve: Reconsider **

**Author's Note:** I'm not sure 'meniscid' is a word. In fact, I'm pretty certain it isn't. And if it is, it shouldn't be. I'm referring, of course, to the meniscus – remember that from science class? The curve that shows up on top of water when it's in a tube. Oh, I miss the good old days, when 'science experiments' required nothing more than a graduated cylinder and tap water. I don't think I'll ever be able forget that word: in grade nine science class we had a quiz, and the answer to the bonus question was 'meniscus,' but I couldn't, for the life of me, remember the word. And it was right on the tip of my tongue! So I agonized and agonized over it for about 15 minutes, and then time was up. And when someone finally said it, I swore to myself, _never again_.

Wow, this story just took my neologism virginity

Perhaps it doesn't quite fit as snugly into the description as I hoped it would? I think it requires some sort of pronounced curving effect (a concavo-convex effect, if you will! Which makes no sense to me... isn't that a little like saying right-left? But alas... concavo-convex is really a word) which may or may not be present in this sort of situation. But we can just pretend. I love make-believe.

* * *

Sakura opened her eyes for about the tenth time in a minute, frustrated by her inability to fall asleep. She was tired enough that the rock that seemed to dig into her back no matter which way she twisted or turned wouldn't have been enough to keep her awake, but she had other things on her mind beyond her own physical discomfort. Sakura pushed herself into a sitting position, moving clumsily hand over hand, fingertips whispering against the tent fabric. She glanced over at Tenten's still form, a shapeless lump in the darkness; the brunette was either asleep or doing a very good job at pretending to be. As for Sakura, she'd had quite enough of pretending for one evening.

Cool air filled her lungs as she stepped out into the night, blinking in shock at the brilliance of the moon, three-quarters full and completely unobscured by cloud. The entire forest around her was still, though not silent. She felt as if she could hear every creak, every rustle, every groan of the trees around her. It was soothing, calming. For the first time in a very long time Sakura didn't feel like her heart was a stone in her chest, nor did it feel like her mind was afire with the ache of horror. The forest inspired in her nostalgia, the familiar routes of memory tracing paths through her consciousness, comforting her, welcoming her. She felt…

_…like I'm back home_…

Sakura set off through the trees at a meandering pace, trailing her fingertips across tree trunks when she passed close, half-closed eyes flicking back and forth between the movements of nocturnal creatures that crossed her path. She ducked low, avoiding a spider web illuminated in all its labyrinthine glory, straightening slowly when she saw the glittering expanse of a pond spreading out before her. She stepped away from the trees and paused, staring at the water. It was almost completely still, the reflection of the moonlit trees fluctuating gently.

Sakura bent low, her fingers working at the buckles on her shin guards before she loosened them enough to slide her feet free from her boots. The ground was cool and damp when she stepped up to the edge of the lake, her feet leaving perfect footprints in the soft mud. She raised a foot over the water, lowered it, hesitated a moment—

-- exhaled slowly –

-- stepped down.

The water took her weight, seeming all but solid in a queer, liquid way, as if she were walking on a thin skin, on warm ice, a meniscid surface. Her steps were easy after the first, as if walking on water was the most natural occurrence. It was, of course, second nature; rigid self-control and impeccable chakra manipulation had always been her talent. But it had seemed like it had been years since Sakura had had the confidence in herself to walk on water.

It was nice.

The pond was quite small, and within a dozen steps or so Sakura had reached the exact centre. She simply stood there for a long time, staring up at the stars, at the moon, at the silhouetted treetops caging her in. Her gaze dropped to the water beneath her feet, glittering and opaque in her own shadow. She let a grin twist its way onto her lips, self-satisfaction and the old stirrings of pride and accomplishment. She pivoted on a heel, turning back to the shore.

Ino was there, her hands hanging at her sides, staring across the pond. The moon had caught her in an ephemeral glow, her hair was stark white and the blue of her eyes was startling in the night, even at that distance.

Sakura blinked.

Her legs suddenly sank into the water to the knee, stopping only she caught herself on her hands, chakra flaring briefly, almost visibly, setting the water into frantic intersecting ripples. Her face burning in shame, Sakura scrambled back onto the surface of the water and made her way back to the shore.

Ino was standing in the mud, and Sakura pulled up short when the blonde bent to retrieve one of her boots, throwing it over to her so that she didn't have to step into the mud and get her feet dirty before putting them back on. Sakura struggled briefly to pull her wet foot into her boot while the blonde waited with the second one in hand, nimbly catching it when she had finally gotten the first on, and then she was stepping off onto the shore.

Her feet on solid ground, Sakura crossed her arms briefly before consciously uncrossing them again and letting one drop to her side. "Ino," she said quietly, not knowing what else to say.

"I didn't mean what I said," Ino began, her voice low and even, controlled, emotionless. "I don't think you're a coward."

Sakura thought Ino was beautiful when she apologized.

"I know how hard it is not to run away," she said. "And I also know that you're not one to do that sort of thing."

Sakura felt her throat tighten and averted her eyes, ashamed.

"I've seen you stand up to your fears before. I've fought with you when we thought it might be our last battle. I remember you always pulling through when things got really ugly, and I know that you'll be able to pull through for us all again."

Sakura turned back to the lake, blinking away unbidden tears, the fingers of her left hand covering her mouth.

"I just don't understand why you ran away from _me_," Ino whispered, not trusting her voice not to break.

A tiny sob hiccupped its way out of Sakura's throat and tears burned her cheeks. She glanced at Ino, found she couldn't look the other girl in the eye, and dropped her eyes again.

"Did I really frighten you so badly?" Ino asked her. "Did I really hurt you so much?"

"No," Sakura whimpered.

"Then why did you leave?"

Sakura shrugged and shook her head, helpless. "I didn't think… I just…" She wrapped her arm around herself, bit her lip. "I don't know."

"I thought I made you happy," Ino prodded.

"You did." Then, an afterthought, her voice distant, distracted: "You do."

"Then why?"

Sakura looked back over the pond again. "I just needed time." There was a long pause before she met Ino's eyes again.

"Did you find enough of it in Suna?"

"Too much," Sakura admitted sadly.

"Then what?" Ino asked her, her gesture as vague as her words, palms open, upwards, catching the moonlight in delicate fingers. "I don't---" she began, but Sakura didn't let her finish.

"I missed you," she admitted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "So much," she quantified.

"I wanted you to come back for so long. I was so desperate," Ino told her.

"Here I am," Sakura whispered, her eyes locked on Ino's.

"Here you are," Ino agreed.

"Take me back," Sakura begged her.

There was a pause, a sudden space between the two of them that deprived them both of breath, taking them away from everything around them: the horrifying realization of the imminent watershed represented by a single uttered word.

"Okay," Ino murmured, her voice so small as to be almost inaudible, her reaching fingers intertwining with Sakura's.

But when she kissed Sakura, nothing was forgotten.


	15. Thirteen: Renege

**Thirteen: Renege **

**Author's Note:** I'll explain later! Also later, I may possibly change parts of this chapter. If I do, I'll let you know.

* * *

Ino was distant. Ino was cold. Ino was cruel.

Sakura was sitting in the corner, her legs loosely crossed, one knee high, her arms wrapped around themselves beneath the cover of her own jacket. She blinked slowly, languorously, feeling her eyelids hot and aching, resisting her continuing stare. Every few minutes she relented to their fatigued gravity and let her eyes close for precious few seconds, and every time she opened them again Ino was the same as she always was – upright, rigid, idly alert.

After all these years, Sakura still couldn't get over how strikingly beautiful the other girl was. She hated how effortlessly flawless she could be in voice and action, all sensual grace and edged wit, at the same time hyperfeminine in her apparent softness and unsexed by her capacity for violence. Ino's mind might have been her best weapon – and she had never neglected to put it to some viscerally horrifying use, to deprive people of their own will and abilities, of their lives, with a mere _thought_ – but her hands still cut and crushed and killed with the best of them. Hands so slender, manicured beneath the blood, delicate beyond the scabs. In her hands, in her lips, in her voice Sakura found _her_ Ino. But in her eyes…

Sakura blinked again as Ino turned her head slightly, incrementally, as if she were listening to something in the forest. She seemed frozen then, as if even her heart was stilled, and then her gaze grated over Sakura's and she was gone.

Sakura shrugged her jacket aside and gained her feet in an instant, forcing herself to be silent and graceful even as everything ached, even as her mind remained sluggish and fatigued. She skirted the floor, her feet almost touching the wall with every step, consciously avoiding the dozens of loose, clattering, creaking floorboards in the weatherworn building. Tenten was sleeping somewhere in the darkness, her summoning scroll tucked beneath her knees, her eyelids still in dreamless rest.

As Sakura stepped down into the grass, she was struck by an unbidden sensation of guilt. She hesitated, glancing back at the older girl, not even seeing her in the shadows anymore. Tenten had been put in command of a cell that could never work, forced to rely on two utterly broken team mates who were far too preoccupied with their own power struggles to listen to her good sense and hopeful intentions. Tenten was trying to climb the impossible incline while Ino and Sakura threw their weight on each other's shoulders and watched with stilled gazes and subdued breath to see who would lose strength, lose hope, lose the will to hold fast first, and send them both crashing down.

Sakura turned away from the outpost building and took half a step before she raised her eyes and saw Ino standing there, looking vaguely bemused, her eyes hauntingly glassed in the moonlight. "You weren't invited," she murmured quietly.

Betrayed again by her heart, Sakura suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable.

She had a knife in her hand, a kunai transfixed by her index finger, and was spinning it, over and over and over again. She had been playing with it for hours, every once in a while stopping it suddenly with her knuckles and reversing direction with the clack of metal on bone and the bite of edge into scarred skin.

Ino suddenly stopped the motion of the blade, stilling it with a final closing of her fingers over its edges, letting her hand drop to her side. It was as if she had noticed Sakura watching her and suddenly didn't find it fun anymore. "Go to sleep, Sakura," she insisted. And she expected her to obey.

"I've got too many things on my mind," Sakura told her.

"Hmm," Ino mused, and her tone was quietly dangerous.

"Don't," Sakura pre-empted her. "Don't pick a fight."

"Alright," Ino relented calmly, though there was still the slightest hint of a wicked sneer in her eyes. She meshed her fingers together behind her neck, the kunai, warmed by her grip, pressed against the skin, and let her arms hang. She wandered past Sakura, close enough to brush up against her.

Sakura lay a hand on the blonde's stomach, stopping her in her tracks, and turned her head to meet Ino's gaze. "This isn't going to work, Ino, and you know it."

"What isn't going to work?" Ino let her arms fall, sarcastic in her innocence.

She was so close to Sakura that she made her feel weak inside, made her want to lose her nerve, but instead she drew herself up sharply and inhaled deeply. "This whole situation. We're being… unprofessional."

"You mean I'm being a bitch and you're being a doormat," Ino clarified bitterly.

Sakura gave her an exasperated look.

"I never understood why you always sugar-coat things."

"I'm not a doormat," Sakura denied.

"Sakura, darling," Ino chided her, condescending. "Since you came back you've been nothing but tears and self-deprecation." She waved a hand obscurely. "Old hat."

"That's not true."

Ino rolled her eyes, acknowledging and dismissing Sakura's previous fleeting attempts to stand up for herself all with a single expression. "And that lasted how long? Every time you find your backbone you lose it again the moment I look at you."

"I didn't come back to fight with you."

"And you apparently didn't come back to fight for yourself, either," Ino sneered.

Sakura's mouth flattened itself into a grim line. "You really think so little of me as that." Ino's agreement to this was not in doubt.

"There's no challenge in you anymore, Sakura," Ino sighed. "I poke and poke at you but its just dead flesh under those pretty clothes." To illustrate her point, Ino held the kunai between two fingers and prodded twice at Sakura's collar bone with it.

To illustrate _her_ point, Sakura savagely backhanded the blade from Ino's fingers, sending the blade spinning into the darkness and knocking Ino's hand aside. If she was startled by the sudden vehemence of that act, Ino gave little indication. Instead, she surged forward, raising her left hand up into Sakura's throat. There, in a moment of terrified chagrin, Sakura felt the promising itch of a second blade. She swallowed, felt the kunai bite, froze.

"Case in point," Ino murmured. She dragged the point of the knife up along the side of Sakura's windpipe, raising the blade slowly until it hooked under Sakura's jaw, gently lifting her chin. "You've gotten soft, Sakura. All hurt and no fight."

Sakura moved to take a step back but was halted in her tracks when Ino swung out her right hand and clapped it over the back of her neck, fingers digging in hard, startling and hurting her. Ino pressed her forehead hard against Sakura's for a moment before she removed the threat of the knife and simply threw Sakura to the side and down, her hand heavy and brutal on the back of her neck. Sakura stumbled, was about to regain her feet when a casual roundhouse kick clipped off the top of her shoulder, struck her in the ear, and knocked her to the ground.

Dazed and tired, Sakura went down without so much as a cry of indignation.

Ino paced back and forth in front of her, catlike, feral, one hand on her hip and the other raised to her face, smoothing her eyebrows with a thumb and her first two fingers. She dropped her hand and let her head fall back, throwing a grim smile skyward. "Fuck," she murmured. Shook her head. "Pitiful," she declared. "Disgusting," she added.

"Ino, please. I'm not—"

"Sakura—" Ino interrupted.

"—just listen to me!" she begged.

Ino pulled up short, tall and regal of posture, her words a reflection of her expression writ small. "I'm disappointed."

Sakura climbed to her feet but Ino sent her back down into the dirt with a careless one-handed shove. Then she laughed, bitter and cruel.

"Please," Sakura mumbled, and didn't bother to say anything more.

"I'm tired of your grovelling, really," the blonde sneered, turning her back on the other girl. "Find your feet, Sakura."

"No," Sakura said, her voice thick and heavy, childish in its denial. "No, I won't."

"Don't cry," Ino snapped at her.

Sakura didn't reply.

Ino spun on one heel, casting a blistering glance down at the other girl. "Don't you dare," she warned again.

"I give up," Sakura told her, her voice quiet. "There's nothing I can do anymore."

Ino looked appalled. "You're _giving up?_" A moment, then: "On what?"

"Everything," Sakura said, with bitter finality.

Ino fell into a crouch in front of Sakura. She waited a long time for her to meet her gaze. Then, suddenly, savagely, she backhanded Sakura across the mouth. Sakura reeled, stunned, and would have fallen back if not for Ino's hand snapping out and catching her by the collar, wrenching her forward again. "_I waited for you,_" Ino snarled at her, her eyes dancing with malice. "_I waited for you for so long."_

Sakura probed her lip with the tip of her tongue, feeling where it had been split open against her own teeth, winced. "I came back," she whispered.

"No," Ino told her. "You've come back in _pieces_. Whether I love you or hate you, put you back together or tear you down anew, it makes little difference in the end, doesn't it? It's all the same to you, wallowing in self-pity, worshipping your own helplessness." She shook her head slowly. "You're worthless to me."

Sakura looked her right in the eye. "Nothing has changed."

Ino was appalled.

"We're back where we started, all those years ago."

Ino released Sakura and rocked back on her heels. "You meant everything to me then."

"No," Sakura told her quietly. Shook her head as if to solidify her assertion.

"I wouldn't have fallen in love with you otherwise."

"Same old lies." Sakura sounded exhausted.

A muscle in Ino's cheek twitched. She inhaled sharply – as if preparing for a sudden burst of movement. Sakura flinched away from her. Ino hesitated, then reached out and took Sakura's face in both her hands. "Did you ever trust me?"

"I wanted to," Sakura offered candidly.

"But… you're giving up."

"I don't have the energy for this, Ino," Sakura cried softly, helplessly. "I came back, but you weren't there anymore. You're somewhere else, and too far gone. I'm always left behind."

Surprising Sakura, Ino put her hands down, crawled into position beside her, and turned over in a sitting position. "So that's our problem," she said quietly.

"You keep wanting me to be where you left me," Sakura muttered miserably. "And I you."

"But you're somewhere else, and too far gone," Ino echoed, sounding vaguely amused.

Sakura didn't say anything. Instead, she wiped at her lip with the back of her knuckles.

Ino suddenly let out a frustrated cry through clenched teeth. "But you're not all gone! I look at you and I still see… I still want…" she foundered in her speech, abruptly set a different tack. "We can't build from scratch as if we're not standing in the rubble of everything past."

Sakura rubbed at her tired eyes, drying them, and inhaled deeply, shuddering. "How can you lay a foundation on uneven ground, anyway?"

Ino waved dismissively. "Stupid analogy," she said. Sakura laughed, a brief hiccup, sniffly and weak. Ino turned to her in the darkness. "I'm not angry," she began. Sakura rolled her eyes and turned away, only to have Ino catch her chin and turn her back. "I am angry," she corrected. "But I just---" She let out another frustrated growl, then leaned closer and kissed Sakura.

After a moment, Ino pulled away and shrugged. "I hate you for being weak, but I want so desperately to protect you."

Sakura would have flinched at that mixed callous jab and profession of caring had she not been expecting far worse. So she countered: "And I want so desperately to trust you, but your promises mean absolutely nothing to me."

Ino kissed her again. "I'm sorry for hitting you" she murmured into her cheek.

"I wouldn't have recognized you if you hadn't," Sakura admitted sadly.

"I think we're dead in the water," Ino mused.

"Then all that's left to do is drown," Sakura finished, as she put her arms around Ino's neck.


	16. Fourteen: Revulsion

**Fourteen: Revulsion**

**  
Author's Note:** Whoa! It's been a while since I've updated. Well, I figured since I've gotten some positive reviews lately, I might give something back. So, big thanks to… well, to everyone who reviewed! It really does mean a lot.

This chapter is pretty large, and I wonder if it's too… cumbersome. I usually don't write 'action' scenes this long, so we'll see how it goes. I'm sure someone will let me know how this boat of a fic navigates.

On an unrelated matter, is anyone else _totally f#$ing psyched_ for the new Elizabeth film? Maybe I'm just an insufferable history geek. God save the motherf&#$ing Queen. I will go back in time and _marry_ you, Elizabeth.

(It's funny how I feel guilty about swearing in the author's note, but clearly have absolutely no problem liberally dousing the actual fiction with profanity. I shouldn't swear as much as I do, anyway. It's _unladylike_.)

* * *

Ino leaned her back against a tree, uncrossing and recrossing her legs at the ankles. She had one arm wrapped around her own stomach, the other bent up at the elbow, two fingers pressed against her arching eyebrow, right over the spot where a persistent headache throbbed mercilessly. She didn't have the patience for this sort of thing, this banal civilian drivel, the backwater attempts at charm, all crooked-tooth grins and unshaven faces. Even their voices, heavily accented with the twang of ignorance, were starting to get on her nerves. 

Tenten was apparently much better at this sort of thing, although despite her smiles her eyes darkened with increasing pique. Her tone was of endless patience and optimism, a virtue Ino recognized but couldn't be bothered to envy. Despite the fact that all of these stupid militia outposts were exactly the same, dealing with their lookouts didn't seem to get any easier with practice, and the information they volunteered was often contradictory or outright wrong. Ino left each one with her fingers clenched, her teeth gritted, her insides taut with frustration. She wasn't even sure why they bothered talking to these _hicks_.

_And where the hell had Sakura gotten off to?_

A particularly raucous salvo of civilian laughter set Ino on edge, and the ripple of half-whispered retellings and gruff chortles knocked her clear over it. Uncrossing her legs, she pushed herself away from the tree and stormed over to Tenten. The brunette glanced up from where she was crouched on the ground, talking to the self-appointed captain, and watched Ino approach with her eyes slightly narrowed. Ino found no discouragement in the older girl's eyes. "Enough _games_," Ino snarled.

The captain scrambled to his feet to meet her, and Tenten rose beside him, silent and agile.

"Listen, _captain_—" she began, her words distinctly edged, tainted with contempt.

"What's wrong?" He started. "Are—"

"Don't interrupt me," the blonde warned. "Just answer me this one question: do you have _anything_ of worth to say?"

The captain blinked.

Ino stepped into him, her fingertips fanned over his narrow chest as if in an attempt to minimize her physical contact with him, and shoved him off a few steps. "We're leaving," she told Tenten.

The brunette shook her head, but shrugged and followed.

"Wait, wait!" the captain called! "Hey, beautiful, come back here a second."

Ino pivoted and stormed back to him, the look on her face effectively draining him of all insufferable machismo. "I hope to god you're the first to die," she told him, quietly sibilant. The captain went pale.

When the outpost was finally out of sight, Tenten spoke up. "I'm not sure you should have done that," she told the blonde, exasperated.

"I don't care," Ino replied, sufficiently calmed to carry on a conversation.

"Ino, this isn't going to work—"

Ino came to a stop, giving Tenten a look that dared her to continue. The brunette seemed unfazed by the inherent threat.

"_I_ am the cell leader, and I'm tired of you chafing under my leadership every time a decision is made. I'll ask for your opinion, but when I decide on something I expect you to follow through on it and not go storming around uttering death threats every time something gets on your nerves."

The years seemed to slough off Ino. She looked suitably chagrined, even hurt, and humbled. She looked sixteen again. She bit her lip.

"You need to pull it together," Tenten told her quietly.

"I know," Ino agreed.

There was an awkward silence. Tenten knew better than to wait for an apology from the blonde and so she simply turned and continued walking. "You know, at the very least I hoped to wait for Sakura to get back before we left."

Ino shrugged. "She'll find us."

"That's not the point," Tenten snapped, irritated.

Ino didn't say anything, knowing full well she was in the wrong and also fully aware of how immature she was being. She felt noticeably calmed after their departure from the outpost, her frustration dissipating quickly, proof of its ultimate superficiality.

They had been travelling for nearly fifteen minutes when Tenten spoke again. "Where the hell did she go?"

"For a smoke?" Ino offered blithely.

Tenten gave her a look.

Ino was tempted to tell her to lighten up, but any chance for friendly banter quickly disappeared as a massive explosion rocked the forest around them.

* * *

Sakura had launched herself clear of the exploding tags but was not expecting an explosion of such magnitude, nor was she quite expecting the earth beneath her to suddenly burst into flames. Pelted with stones and chunks of wood the sizes of fists and skulls, she shielded herself with one arm as she landed, her feet skidding on grass slick with some sort of oil, colourless but acrid. She lost her footing and dropped her other hand to prevent herself from falling, bare palm slipping in the grease, sufficient to regain her balance. 

She hadn't seen her attacker, had seen nothing but the exploding tags as she crept forward to investigate the apparent oil spill that dampened this part of the forest – an oil spill now transformed into a veritable inferno. Now, stunned from the explosion, her eyes and lungs burning from the thick black smoke, she searched desperately for the enemy. Higher ground was out of the question – that would put her right in the thickest of the smoke, but with the earth around her in flames, a ground battle wasn't much of an option either.

But, if she were in control of the situation, the only place she would be is---

_Up!_

The figure descended on her with a speed that failed to match her reaction time. She cartwheeled suddenly sideways, dodging the flashing shuriken that preceded his descent. He stayed on her though, following her every move, a split second behind her every desperate evasion, knives flashing mere centimetres from flesh, close enough that she could hear them cutting through air, close enough that she could hear his breathing – harsh and mechanical sounding. She caught glimpses of him; his face was obscured completely by some sort of breathing apparatus or gas mask, stylized vicious with animalistic features, the forehead adorned with the barely visible mark of Iwagakure, the piled stones, carved right onto the mask.

She was in a bad place.

She struggled against the treacherous footing, hardly able to breathe, her eyes watering. His knives nicked her once, twice – stinging pain lancing across a shoulder, across her hip. She saw his spinning kick a split second before it would have connected with the side of her head, managing to bring up her forearm to shield herself. The blow still connected hard enough to knock her sideways. Her feet went out from under her and she rolled, trying to regain her feet, suddenly feeling dampness soak into her clothes, got back on her feet. She saw, then, a split second opportunity – her awkward fall had sent her in a direction he hadn't been expecting – and surged to the offensive.

Fists swinging, she sought desperately to connect – _just once, just fucking once, that's all I need_ – but he was dodging, slowly, almost coyly, as if he imagined he was playing with her. She kept swinging, kept him on his toes, kept him in retreat, each time just barely missing, feeling his clothing on her knuckles but not the flesh and bone beneath.

He backed himself up against a tree.

Sakura let out a shout, chakra firing within, accumulating visibly.

Her attacker dodged – straight up – just as her fist struck wood, and the tree trunk _exploded_ into toothpicks.

She heard him gasp in shock – that mechanical intake – her eyes following as he hurtled himself as far away from her as he possibly could, landing on an opposite tree branch in a crouch. He hesitated, ready to dodge again, but Sakura didn't move. She grinned, taking the opportunity to catch her breath, revelling in his sudden terror at her freakish strength, in the sound that the tree she had just _torn in half_ made as it collapsed behind her. She could almost _hear_ his thoughts racing, rethinking his strategy in light of her blatant declaration that the ground game was _hers_ and hers alone.

But then again, she was soaked in this strange oil, and the fire behind her was rapidly spreading.

_Time to act_.

Chakra was redirected suddenly to her legs, powering her sudden surge forward with an incredible speed that he couldn't match. He flung himself backwards, away, but she caught the branch he had been on, redirected her momentum, throwing her body forward with all her strength. She caught him mid-air, planting both feet on his back and driving him face-first into the ground. She didn't allow herself even a moment's feeling of triumph – feeling something wrong, something off, the moment she connected with him – and was leaping away as the replacement technique dispelled and his wooden substitute practically dissolved into splinters.

She landed hard and pivoted, bringing her heel up and back in an arc that connected as he came down after her, though he caught her foot in both hands and used the force she had provided to push himself away again. Mid-air, hands moving so quickly, forming seals – tiger, horse –

--- _Oh, god-_

Panic.

Her hands raced to form seals in response – the only strategy she could come up with in the split second before he landed and completed the _Goukakyuu no Jutsu_ – completing the _Bunshin no Jutsu_ with time to spare.

Seven perfect copies of Sakura broke and scattered, the first two caught instantly by the immense gout of flame, instantly dissipating. The five remaining moved to circle 'round, flanking him from every conceivable direction as he pivoted, spraying his surroundings with flame, igniting everything within an eight-meter radius. Another clone was caught and dispelled, then a fourth. Out of time, out of space, three Sakuras converged on him, cutting his technique short. Not sure which one was real, not sure which attack to block, he simply stood there, crossing his forearms in front of him, bracing for impact.

She rammed into him from behind, knocking him forward into his own flames. He staggered through, spinning to block as she came rocketing over the inferno after him, hit him so hard she spun him right around again, then hit him again, and again, crushing blows that drove the breath from his lungs. Her fist struck him full in the face and his gas mask shattered, pieces of it caught between knuckles and flesh and cutting deep into his cheekbone and eye.

She had him.

She seized him by the front of his clothing, pulling him back from the impact of another blow, felt the heat of the chakra accumulating in her other hand, feeling her shoulder muscles straining with the force of what would be the killing blow ---

She could see the panic in his eyes, the utter despair.

Metal flashed just as she threw her punch. The knife blade sank in deep, between the twin bones of her forearm, the momentum of her own movement causing the kunai to cut deep. She could feel the weapon _inside_ her flesh, felt it score bone, felt her nerves ignite in agony. Her concentration shattered, chakra dissipated, and her wrist collapsed on impact with his jaw. She had still hit him hard enough to stun him, but all of her inhuman strength was suddenly gone from the attack. He slipped back and out from her grasp.

_Fuck! Fuck! Kill him!_

He took two staggering steps backwards before he wrenched his body around and turned to flee. She caught him then, just as he turned, her left fist connecting with his hip awkwardly – a desperate swing of a punch, almost idiotic in its execution, half-powered with panicked concentration, insufficient – and his pelvis shattered on impact.

He went down as if he had been struck by the weight of a mountain, crippled, half-blind, helpless.

Sudden movement caught her attention and Sakura looked up from her attacker, fearing that his companions had arrived. Instead – instant relief flooding through her – her own had come. Ino and Tenten launched themselves past and beyond her, aiming for targets Sakura hadn't even been aware of. She spun around, caught Ino's flash of movement as she hurled an entire brace worth of knives at a target, a second figure wearing a gas mask, who then turned his attention from the wounded Sakura to Ino.

Their timing was nothing less than impeccable.

A third figure was there, holding back. There was something large and cumbersome on his back, though Sakura couldn't tell what it was before Tenten forced him into retreat, wielding a summoned weapon. It was an outrageously oversized kusarigama, a massive scythe with a weighted chain affixed to the handle, an insane double-threat wielded by one of Konoha's foremost weapons masters.

Ignoring the shinobi she had downed, Sakura took a couple staggering steps after her team mates, intending to help, but a hideous agony in her arm slowed and then stopped her. She looked down, saw blood, saw metal, saw bone. The colour drained from her face.

_Knife -- oh god, there's a fucking knife in my arm --_

Trembling hands pulled the weapon from her flesh, felt the lukewarm metal snaking through her muscle, a sudden surge of nausea, barely controlled. The knife clanked faintly as it hit the ground, Sakura's trembling fingers, covered in oil, prodding gently, trying to press her flesh back into shape where it had been slashed open, pushed up and out. Hideous, hideous work, and all she could feel was the pain, and she could hardly see through the smoke, could hardly breathe.

She hated the blood, couldn't even look at it, couldn't even salvage a semblance of concentration needed to heal herself. Palpably, painfully, all semblance of discipline and professionalism dissolved within a matter of seconds. _Oh, god. This isn't what I want. This isn't where I want to be._

Her knees struck the earth and she retched violently, coughing hard.

_Too much, too much_, her mind reeled. _I'm sick, I'm so sick_---

--- of the blood, of the violence, of everything that was her entire life and everything she had ever known.

Everything.

Sakura glanced up, panicked eyes searching for her two team mates. She found them, after a moment, through the shifting smoke. Both had converged on the shinobi carrying what looked like a massive gourd on his back, much like Gaara's, similar, but even bigger. There was only one left – Ino had dispatched her target far more efficiently than Sakura had managed hers – and the two-on-one odds made it a quick fight. Ino's movements were terrifying in their speed and grace, perfect textbook execution, efficient. Tenten's kusarigama was all flashing steel and winding chain, and Ino dodged in and out of the shifting, whirling flurry of attack as if she and the weaponmaster were of one mind.

She could see that grin on Ino's face. Smug. Arrogant. No; simply confident. Comfortable. Ino was at home in the violence, that familiar ground. She was inordinately good at it.

Ino was _born_ to hurt other people.

Sakura, it seemed, was not.

There – one misstep, and the enemy shinobi was caught in the chain, seized, immobile, as the weighted end spun round him once, twice, and cracked hard against the gourd on his back. It shattered around him, a sudden torrent of released oil pouring over him, soaking him completely. He screamed, his voice garbled, his mouth filled with the acrid substance.

Tenten and Ino sprang away at once, a single kunai wrapped in a visible exploding tag leaving the blonde's fingers a split second before the explosion engulfed him, ignited him, and drowned out his hideous scream as he burned alive.

_Oh, god._

Sakura stared, transfixed.

_Oh, god._

Hands were grabbing at her, pulling her up to her feet. Voices were shouting at her but she couldn't hear what they were saying.

_Oh, god_.

And Ino's eyes, alive, so alive. With triumph. With pleasure.


	17. Fifteen: Retract

**Fifteen: Retract**

**Author's Note**: As of tomorrow, technically, I'm finished school for the semester and free for the month! But… I'm still probably going to end up doing research on Christmas Eve for any one of my four 32+ page essays that are going to be coming up due in the new semester. I am defeated.

The good news is, I've been giving much more thought to finishing up this story than I was earlier in the semester! The bad news is, this story is still a mess.

I am defeated.

Enjoy!

* * *

Tenten was finding patience difficult to come by. Every glance at Sakura revealed her to be in various states of breakdown, and every glance at Ino showed only malicious disinterest or some combination of affection and manipulation. Tenten had known these girls their entire lives, and yet both had been rendered almost unrecognizable by the various pressures of being a shinobi. They all had been, in fact. She remembered how strained things could be even with her own team; Rock Lee had lost that outgoing zeal, becoming more introspective than Tenten ever thought possible, and the chip on Neji's shoulder had grown bigger than ever, often revealing itself through insufferable arrogance. Tenten was sure she had changed as well, though she wasn't quite certain how.

She knew what Sakura's problem was, of course. They all did. The kunoichi was cracking under the pressure of living the paradox of a healer that kills… or was it a killer that heals? Other shinobi had the luxury of turning away from the blood once the violence was over, but Sakura was forced literally elbow-deep in the consequences of these confrontations. Sakura had had more human lives bleed out through her very fingers than Tenten could even imagine, made worse by the ridiculous demands and unreachable expectations placed on her as the prodigal apprentice of the legendary Tsunade. As much as she sympathized with her, though, Tenten couldn't help but find Sakura's distress… troublesome. If not downright frightening.

And Ino, of course, made everything worse by trivializing the whole affair. In the blonde's eyes, Sakura's crisis of the self was just about as important as asking if something was white with black stripes or black with white stripes – a _non-_issue. While Ino had always had a rather prominent mean-streak, this had blossomed into outright licentious sadism over the years. Killing was too easy for her, not simply part of her job but part of her lifestyle. Maybe she was exaggerating, but that was certainly the face that Ino put on in this whole affair. No doubt she had her own complexes to work through, but she hid them as well as ever, behind that pretty face, behind that confidence and skill. Ino's unusual familiarity with how _easily_ a mind can be lost, displaced, was troublesome. More than that – it was downright frightening.

And Tenten had been left in command of a three-man cell that was two parts ticking time bomb.

She wanted to help, she really did. But what could she do? Tell Ino to stop being a bitch? Tell Sakura to get over herself?

She wanted to ignore the whole issue, as well. Hope it somehow resolved itself, or at the very least, didn't get them in any trouble. At least Ino could handle herself in a fight, and quite capably at that. Sakura, though, was becoming more and more of a liability. Although the fighting techniques that had been literally beaten into her muscular memory over the years remained intact, her reaction time was considerably slowed, her chakra control was amateur at best, and her stamina – physical and psychological – was practically nil.

_Damn it_.

Tenten rubbed at her face with both hands, wishing fervently that she was not trapped in this whole situation, but knowing she had to at least try to do something about it. She sighed, the exhalation heavy with resignation.

_This is has gotten too ugly._

* * *

Her attention caught by motion in her peripheral vision, Ino glanced up from her severely depleted collection of shuriken and kunai to watch Tenten rise and slowly approach Sakura. The pink-haired kunoichi had been sitting in the same spot for nearly half an hour, her knees drawn up with her arms draped loosely over them. Her hair and clothes – and Ino's as well – were still damp from the forced dunking in a nearby stream, though her skin had lost its ruddy glow after the vigorous scrubbing she had undergone to get that horrid oil off of her.

Sakura was as sullen and pitiful as ever.

Losing interest in her own equipment, Ino began slowly and methodically replacing the weapons into her pack, her eyes on the other two girls. Tenten knelt in front of Sakura, called her name, and received a numb, distracted glance. Whatever else she said after that initial greeting was lost across the distance, so Ino pulled herself up to her feet and made her way over.

"Calm down," Tenten was telling Sakura quietly.

Sakura kept shaking her head slowly, and there were tears in her eyes.

_Pathetic_, Ino thought, albeit momentarily. And then there was her heart – her damn traitorous heart – drawing her even nearer.

"I know you're tired," Tenten was whispering, sympathy clear in her voice. "I know you're sick and hurt—"

"I can't –" Sakura began, but the brunette cut her off by reaching out and grasping both of her hands, untangling her arms from around her knees.

"We need you, Sakura. All of Konoha needs you. Remember your vow, your purpose."

Sakura pulled her hands out from Tenten's grasp, turning her face to the side and resting her cheek against her knee. Her eyes were glistening with tears when she blinked them shut and kept them closed.

Ino felt that awful lump in her throat, felt stinging tears spring into her own eyes. She furrowed her brow and pinched the bridge of her nose until it passed, and when she opened her eyes again, she saw Tenten staring up at her, angry and frustrated, misunderstanding the entire gesture. Ino sighed, took a single step towards Sakura, and then halted as Tenten surged to her feet, heading her off and droving her back a step.

"You need to do something," Tenten hissed.

"Do what?" Ino snarled, taken aback by Tenten's unusually confrontational approach. "I'm not her keeper."

Tenten slapped her. _Hard_. A stinging blow that spun her a quarter of the way around and forced her to blink her vision clear. Shocked, angered, Ino turned back, a single kunai appearing in her left hand – and froze, Tenten's own knife pressing against the edge of her eye socket.

"Stop," Tenten snapped.

Ino tossed the knife point-first into the dirt between their feet and raised her empty palms in submission. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Force of habit."

"I'm starting to tire of your _habits_. You need to stop torturing her---"

"Torture!" Ino interjected vehemently.

"You may not be the cause of the problem but you're certainly not making things any better!" Tenten was struggling to keep her voice down but not doing a very good job of it.

"And how do you expect _me_ to make this any better? What should I do, waltz over there, give her a big hug and tell her everything is going to be okay? Or should I do what just did and talk to her about duty and responsibility and tell her to _just_ _get over it_?"

"I'm getting really sick of your attitude, Ino."

"Oh, is that it?"

"Getting really sick of your insubordination," Tenten added darkly.

"Aren't we all equals here?" Ino hissed. "Aren't we all friends?"

"Not at this point," Tenten snapped. "I'm really starting to see why Godaime-sama saw you as unfit to lead this mission."

Ino visibly recoiled, lost some of her confidence, lost nearly all of her imposing force. "That was low," Ino whispered, half horrified. "That was really low." She began to turn away when Tenten caught hold of her arm and held her fast.

"You really need to learn how to work as part of a team," she told her, "because right now this mission is crippled."

Ino pulled her arm free and glanced past Tenten at Sakura, who was now standing and watching the two of them with significant apprehension, then turned her attention back to Tenten. She wasn't quite sure what she could say. This was an argument already lost, as much as it irritated her to admit it.

"I just don't ---"

"I don't care what you think," Tenten snapped, frustrated. "Just get it together and _stop hurting her_."

Ino narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Don't get into this."

"How can I not, Ino?" the brunette demanded, exasperated. "How do you expect me to avoid something that could very well get us all _killed_?"

"Don't," Ino warned.

"Do you love her or not?" Tenten asked, point-blank.

Put on the spot, Ino suddenly found this entire conversation unbearably uncomfortable. She surged forward, pushing Tenten back a step, forcing herself to keep her tightly-clenched fists at her side. "You have _no_ _fucking idea_ what you're talking about!" she snarled, eyes flashing, gritting her teeth. "This is not your place!"

Ino raised her arms to shove the brunette away when there was sudden motion at her side, and then sudden warmth. Sakura was there, interposing herself between them, one arm wrapping around Ino as she pressed her cheek against the blonde's. Stunned, Ino fell silent, froze.

"Stop," Sakura murmured in her ear.

Instinctively, Ino raised her right hand, wrapped her fingertips around Sakura's waist. She matched Tenten's gaze until the other girl turned away.

It was amazing, really. How Sakura could be so small, so vulnerable, so pathetic, and yet still make Ino feel more trapped, more _threatened_, than ever.


	18. Sixteen: Reconciliation

**Sixteen: Reconciliation**

**Author's note:** I'm not really a fan of poetry, since prose gives me everything I imagine I need from literature. Stephen Crane, though, is really someone special. His poetry is dark, and ambivalent, and _creepy_ at times. It gives me this feeling that everything is ugly and awful, but there is hope. Unfortunately, that hope is ugly and awful in its own way.

XXIII  
Places among the stars,  
Soft gardens near the sun,  
Keep your distant beauty;  
Shed no beams upon my weak heart.  
Since she is here  
In a place of blackness,  
Not your golden days  
Nor your silver nights  
Can call me to you.  
Since she is here  
In a place of blackness,  
Here I stay and wait.

Stephen Crane  
_The Black Riders and Other Lines_

Ah, love poetry. Look him up! ( I can almost guarantee that poem III will make you fall in love with him.

I know you guys wanted a longer post, but this one isn't very long, either. I'm sorry. So instead, I'm going to say thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. And I was really, _really_ surprised that there were so many of you. So thank you to the people whom I can actually name: _0xnaomix0, __crazyhorse08, __darkens4841, __CloudySeikatsuSeiki, __Bad Girl762, __Nachtweiss, __Krokador, __Ino-Sakura92_ and everyone else who reviewed months and months ago when I used to update with some semblance of regularity. I really appreciate it.

* * *

From the moment of her confrontation with Tenten, Ino found herself consumed by an increasing sense of moral urgency. _You may not be the cause of the problem but you're certainly not making things any better_, she had said. The truth in that was plain. But what, really, could even be done about this situation? The cracks that appeared in Sakura's sense of self ran far deeper than their relationship. What good would it do to patch over the holes at the surface when the foundation had been so seriously eroded? 

At the same time, Ino was finding it more and more difficult to distance herself from Sakura's pitiful state and, worse still, she was finding it more difficult to _not_ see a reflection of herself in that blatant morose resignation. Maybe, she thought, just maybe patching up these surface imperfections would grant just enough stability to allow for the much deeper reconciliation and ultimate repair to take place.

But here she was again, speaking of human emotion in terms of pathetic architectural metaphor.

But what Tenten's abortive intervention had certainly achieved was a destabilizing of what Ino had long imagined was a source of her strength – _pride_. Throughout this whole pathetic episode of reacceptance and rejection, this charade of distance, of control, Ino had struggled to maintain her sense of pride, marred by the ugliness of repeated failures and renewed and utterly brutal attempts to hold at arm's length everything she thought she should hate but knew she couldn't help but love. Ino couldn't help but condemn herself for jerking Sakura around so much, standing now in the rubble of arrogance and conceit.

Ino had wanted, needed, so desperately to be able to reassert her own confidence. And the revelation of this horrific superficiality – of the fact that she had merely been papering over the holes that belied much greater faults in structural integrity – made her feel foolish and weak.

Ino was feeling increasingly trapped by Sakura's weakness because it stood as a glaring revelation of her own weakness.

So, with Tenten out scouting the forest ahead, checking long-established trap lines and other indicators of incursions into the area surrounding Konoha, Ino decided it was now or never. She caught Sakura slowly and methodically sharpening a single kunai, a distracted and half-hearted attempt at industriousness. When she noticed Ino was approaching, she replaced her kunai and whetstone into her pouch and started to rise from where she was sitting. She never even made it beyond rising into a crouch before Ino descended upon her.

Ino caught her by the shoulder, held her in place.

"I don't want to fight," Sakura mumbled, her voice tight.

"Just listen to me a minute," Ino told her, and that strange urgency made Sakura stay, turning to look at the blonde without meeting her eyes. Ino hesitated for a long moment, struggling to navigate through the turgid web of thoughts swirling about in her mind, trying to find out where to begin, and how to end. She grasped desperately at a thread, throwing herself too far into her commitment to pull back, the words tumbling from her mouth with an uncharacteristically tentative haste. "I know where we went wrong, Sakura."

_That _caught her attention, though Sakura's eyes narrowed more out of confusion – of why they would be talking about this _now_, of all times – than out of concern. Her expression made Ino feel slightly foolish, but she continued with that same hushed strain in her voice, feeling like she was sliding down a slippery slope, but despite the unsure footing, Ino knew it would take her where she needed to be.

Sakura was waiting, somewhere at the bottom of that decline.

"We were always looking for our happily ever after," she told her, "and it made us so angry, so upset, when we couldn't find it. We won't ever get our happy ending, Sakura. The only thing we have is what's in front of us, here and now." Ino reached out with both hands and touched Sakura's face gently for a moment before she grasped her neck and drew her even closer. Her voice dropped lower, then, and Sakura leaned in, resting her forehead against Ino's. "Here I am, Sakura, right in front of you. Watch for me, stay with me. I can be everything you need."

The change in Sakura's expression was almost profound. As if she suddenly realized that she was as much Ino's lifeline as Ino was hers. "I didn't think I could find you again," Sakura whispered.

"No," Ino told her. "I was always here. What you couldn't find was our happy ending."

Sakura pulled back slightly, just enough to be able to look Ino in the eyes. She stayed still for a long time, her brow furrowed, eyes shifting rapidly in focus from Ino's left to her right eye and back again, looking for something in that milky blue, something not to trust, something not to like. She wasn't sure she trusted Ino's fatalist outlook. But then again, she did make a very good point. Sakura had spent her entire life looking for this ever elusive happy ending, and it had brought her nothing but naïveté, heartbreak, and shame. She thought she might have seen it in Sasuke, then in Naruto, and then in how many others? But they had left her, and perhaps what had upset her most about that was not the present bereavement but the future denial of everything she had hoped for since she was a little girl.

But Ino was right. As shinobi, there was no promise of a future, and it was idiotic to think otherwise. If anyone should have an understanding of the fleeting nature of life and dreams, it should have been Sakura. How many fallen shinobi had she cared for, tried to piece together, tried to save? Every single one of them had had hope for the future, had had their own dreams of a happy ending, and every single one of them had been left brutally bereft.

Ino was right. None of them would find happily ever after.

But Sakura could still hate it.

"I'm sorry," she told Ino.

Ino's eyebrow twitched in a momentary expression of confusion.

"I'm still so naïve," she said, and her smile was humourless and bitter. "You always hated that about me."

"I was jealous," Ino told her, and there was an ashamed grin on her face. "Everywhere you looked you saw cause for hope, and all I could manage was resignation. The world seems so much more beautiful through your eyes, Sakura."

"No," Sakura told her. "It's not so beautiful anymore."

Ino gave her an exaggerated look. "You really shouldn't say that when all you can see is my face."

"Oh, please!" Sakura smirked, managing the tiniest laugh. She leaned forward and kissed Ino gently, feeling her heart come alive in her chest again. A kiss without desperation, without fear, without that frantic search for something long gone.

Ino was smiling, sincere and affectionate. "I do love you," she told her. "You and your overlarge forehead."

"Ino-pig," Sakura murmured endearingly. Then, a pause. "You grew up a lot faster than I did," she added.

Ino's expression suddenly darkened, saddened. She rocked back on her heels, falling out of her crouch and into a sitting position. "I had to," she said, drawing her legs in and crossing them.

"I'm sorry," Sakura quickly added. "I didn't mean to…" she trailed off, not really needing to finish. Instead, she half-crawled, half-shuffled forward to close the distance between them again, moving up beside Ino and snaking her arms around the other girl's waist.

Ino propped her elbow up on her knee and dropped her chin into her hand, looking away from Sakura, off into the darkness. She couldn't help but smile when she felt Sakura rest her chin on her shoulder.

"I know what you're going through, Sakura," she told her quietly. "I know what it's like to have people placed in your care, and how it feels when you lose them." She paused, eyes scanning the shadows, as if searching for the right words. "I don't feel noble anymore. I feel dirty and ugly and useless. I feel like a failure."

"Like I have betrayed everyone's trust. Like I never deserved their faith in the first place," Sakura added, her voice very small at Ino's ear.

"Yes," Ino agreed. She turned, craning her neck back so she could look at Sakura. The pink-haired kunoichi's eyes remained downcast for a long moment before she looked up, met Ino's eyes.

"I betrayed your trust," Sakura whispered.

"And I never deserved yours in the first place."

Sakura seemed at a loss, then, so she leaned forward and kissed Ino again.

The blonde recoiled suddenly, tearing herself away from Sakura. "I killed them," she whispered suddenly, a hideous confession dragged from her heart in a moment of intractable guilt.

"What?" Sakura leaned back, shocked by the vehemence of Ino's self-deprecation.

"I killed them." She repeated. "They were children. I was supposed to protect them and I killed them." Ino was in tears, and though she kept her voice low and restrained, it trembled, carrying with it the vaguest hint of potential hysteria. "They were so frightened," she mumbled. "They were so frightened and so hurt, and I let them die."

"Ino," Sakura began consolingly.

"I could hear them," Ino confessed. "I could hear them but I couldn't get to them. If I was stronger, I could have fought my way to them. If I was smarter, I could have seen it coming. But I wasn't. I wasn't good enough at all. And I killed them."

Sakura bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears.

"All this blood on my hands, it's all theirs," Ino wept. "And then you came back, and I could see their blood on your hands, too." She inhaled deeply, shakily, and stopped herself. "But it makes me feel better to fight," she said. "Because if I'm fighting, then at least they don't have to. But I hate it." She laughed, then, harsh and jarring. "The only thing that can make me forget about the killing is more killing."

She turned suddenly and gave Sakura a terrifying stare. "_What is wrong with me?_" She whispered. "_Why don't I deserve a happy ending?_"

Ino was weeping helplessly. Her every word echoed, hard and cold, through Sakura's very being. Sakura knew well the terror of imminent death, made even more grotesque, even more unbearable, when it was children that suffered. She remembered vividly that child, that dead girl. She remembered their screams, their panic, their fear of being alone. _They were so frightened_, Ino had said.

_And I let them die_.

Sakura wiped at her own eyes, blinking to clear her vision, to see Ino better than she had ever seen her before. There was at least _one_ thing that Ino had been wrong about; there, beneath that freshly cracked veneer, beneath a shell warped and thickened by the morally terrifying experience of living the life of a killer, of existing for nothing else _but_ killing – below all that, Ino still had a mean noble streak.

It was as if Sakura had found her knight in shining armour, except this knight had just been dredged up from a riverbed, half-drowned and nearly unrecognizable, crushed and suffocated by the sheer weight of that mud-stained armour.

And Sakura smiled.

Maybe she really didn't need her happy ending. Maybe all she needed was her knight, and to get her out from under all that armour.

* * *

**One Last Author's Note**: Yes, the knight in shining armour is really cliché, and yes, it's a theme in a lot of other InoSaku fiction. But it works, damn it! And I like it! (Even though cut-and-paste metaphors make my skin crawl.) 

Also, I think I just wrote a chapter without profanity in it.

Huh. So it _can_ be done.


End file.
